Tom Riddle and the Cave of Living Waters
by Andrea Tiefling
Summary: What would happen if Tom Marvolo Riddle had been adopted by well-meaning squibs? He would learn the jitterbug! An unabashedly AU HP story about the life and times of T.M. Riddle, set to a backdrop of Big Band hits and Wartime Blitz. Nazi-hexing, swing-dancing, ancient artifact-hunting, basilisk-taming hijinks will ensue! M/M, F/M, F/F, AU, OCs
1. Prologue: October 1937

_AN: Hello and welcome to TRaTCoLW! This is an AU, but wherever possible I've been canon compliant. My definition of "canon" is the printed works of J.K. Rowling ONLY (Seven plus three books). All other sources, including the HP wiki, the Lexicon and especially Pottermore are helpful resources but do not override the books._

_Warnings for people who need them: THIS STORY HAS LGBTQ CHARACTERS! If you don't like it, please go elsewhere. For those of you hoping for lemons, you will be disappointed. There are no lemons. I will happily recommend any number of Gay and Lesbian YA fiction for people who want to read something headier._

_Last and not least: This story contains both Original Characters and references to my original fiction. I've NO INTENTION OF PUTTING THE BACKSTORY ONLINE. If you trip over either an original character or a reference to an older adventure, fear not, it will either be explained or irrelevant._

* * *

><p>Tommy loved having Lizzy over. She was much better at minding him than Grandmother. Grandmother tended to make Tommy play the piano, or recite something in Welsh.<p>

When Tommy was little, Lizzy let him look at her comic books and models. She had lots of animal models because her father was a veterinarian. She'd shown him how to lure a hedgehog to be petted, how to hold an angry dog without getting bit and how to soothe a hurt lamb.

Even being a teenager hadn't stopped her from letting him join in with one of her adventures. She'd brought him to see _The Crimes of Stephen Hawke_. By now Tommy knew that when Lizzy minded him, something exciting was bound to happen.

"Halloo, Tommyknocker," she said the moment she'd breezed into the kitchen. It was raining hard and steady and mum had gone to Grandmother's to make sure the roof wasn't leaking. Papa was in his surgery and wouldn't be back soon.

"Halloo, Liz," Tommy said. He'd just about finished his homework and mum had left tea for Liz and biscuits for them both. Liz took two biscuits at once and ate them together.

"Building a model of Hadrian's Wall?" she said, looking over his shoulder.

Tommy was writing about Welsh history, but of course no one would let him forget Hadrian's Wall. He'd tried to dig a replica of the famous barrier in the back garden and upset his mother's rose beds and vegetable patch to do it. He had a picture of an earthen dyke propped up, along with a book about Ancient Wales.

"I'm not either. You know I was little when I did that," Tommy said. Liz was allowed to tease him, but he could push back once in a while.

"When you've done that, your mum says I can put on a wireless show. You still get New York?" Liz said. With no one around, she lounged back in her chair and stuck her feet up on the table.

"Sure we do, if you let me have a look at the wireless first," Tommy said. He'd always been able to pick up more stations after fiddling with the wireless. They'd once spent an evening listening to a dance program from Buenos Aires. Papa and mum hadn't stop dancing until midnight.

"Well that settles it. There's a program I've been dying to hear, dance lessons, and then you'll have your Children's Hour. Your mum might have to stay over your Gran's. You know how to get supper on?" Liz said. She didn't move from lounging.

"I can help," Tommy said, to prove he was above listening to the Children's Hour. He'd been allowed to help mum and Mrs. Evans with cooking, but not to light the stove.

"You're getting spoiled, Tommyknocker. Thinking about getting a flat in Cardiff, and I'll be cooking my own suppers. Who's going to feed you when you move out?" Liz said.

She had a steady job in Cardiff, a secretary in a doctor's office. They wouldn't take her on full time, Tommy knew, because it was Depression. But they might if she moved. She'd at least be closer to him and be able to visit every weekend then.

"If you moved," Tommy said, leaving aside his description of ancient Welsh settlements, "you could come up every Sunday for tea."

Lizzy laughed and finally put her feet down. She refilled the kettle and the plate of biscuits and that was the last of their tea.

"Every Sunday? And if I had a young man?"

"You'd have to bring him too," Tommy said, shrugging.

He finished his homework as the kettle boiled. Lizzy had out one of the cookbooks mum never used, looking for recipes Tommy could help with.

"Think if I make a shepherd's pie? We'd have to use mutton instead of lamb, but there is some meat in your icebox," Lizzy said.

"Isn't there in yours?" Tommy said, clearing away his books and satchel. That was when he noticed the extra bag Lizzy'd brought. "What's in that?"

"Pa doesn't like eating animals. Ma doesn't either, not when Pa makes a fuss," Lizzy said absent-mindedly. She looked over her shoulder and noticed Tommy pointing at the extra bag. "Oh. That. It's nothing. I'll show you later, after The Shadow."

"Is it a present?" Tommy said, moving closer at once. Lizzy laughed and pulled him back.

"It's nothing you can't wait for, Tommyknocker!"

The shepherd's pie took ages, and while it cooked Lizzy tried to teach Tommy to dance. Tommy was a head shorter than Lizzy and had to watch his feet. Someone knocked on their back door while Lizzy took the pie out of the oven.

"Tommy you get it, let me manage this," Liz said.

Tommy wasn't allowed to answer the back door at night. Sometimes tramps came around the back door to beg. Mum usually sent them away with food or socks she'd knitted, but she didn't want Tommy to see that.

It wasn't a tramp, but Lottie Owens from across the lane. Lottie cleaned houses for old people, including Grandmother.

"Tommy? Is Dr. Davies home yet? I've just come from the great house. Your mother's staying on with the Lady. The roof is leaking and she wants to make sure your grandmother can sleep safely," Lottie said. Under her mackintosh Tommy saw her maid's starched collar. Mum must have sent her right away to check on Tommy. Mum never trusted him at all!

"Thanks Lottie. Say hi to Owen," he said.

"Right-oh," she said.

Lottie turned up her collar and nodded before ducking back into the lane at the bottom of the garden. The Owenses lived across the way and Owen used to come round to play conkers and go scrumping. Now, he had to work too, and Tommy only saw Owen after church.

Tommy returned to the kitchen skipping. Liz had brought something interesting and his parents weren't home to tell them off for staying up late.

"Your mum is staying the night with your gran?" Liz said. She was elbows deep in the dishes. Tommy took the towel and started drying.

"She is! Which means you're going to show me the surprise now! Aren't you?"

Liz splashed him as she replied,

"Go on! You get some candles and I'll set it up. This requires atmosphere!"

Tommy scrounged up the candle stubs he'd saved for emergencies. When he returned to the kitchen, Liz had set up what looked like a board game. There were two rows printed with the alphabet, a row of numbers and the words "yes", "no" and "goodbye".

Liz placed a little heart-shaped card down while Tommy took his seat.

"Light the candles, kiddo!"

Tommy stared at the card. He'd heard of these. Papa had forbidden him to play with one.

"It's a ouija board. I've heard of them. You can speak with ghosts," Tommy said. He had experience with ghosts, and not the fun kind. His hands shook as he lit the candles. Liz put out the lights and sat down opposite him. Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

"One of the girls I work with lent it to me. She said she's used it to speak with her granny! I've seen her at it and everything."

Tommy couldn't stay seated.

"We could speak to Napoleon and Caesar!"

"Marie Antoinette and Cleopatra!"

"Ooo, what are you going to ask them?" Tommy said. He stared at the planchette so hard he was sure it had moved. Just an inch.

"We should write down all our questions," Liz said. She stood up, but Tommy continued to stare. The planchette almost vibrated with his wishing.

"You have done this before, haven't you?" Tommy said. She hadn't met that ghost. Liz paused from fishing around in a drawer for a paper and pencil.

"Tommyknocker, you aren't afraid are you?"

Tommy managed to tear his eyes away from the planchette at last.

"Are you?"

Liz sat down again without looking at him.

"My friend said this is powerful. We need to be careful. We wouldn't want anything unnatural to happen."

Tommy read it in her face. Liz was thinking of Fitzgerald, his murder. Mum never let Tommy speak of it after they'd come home. She said Fitzgerald and his sordid affairs weren't their business.

"We could get holy water. Papa keeps some in his room. I've seen it," Tommy said. Liz came with him. When they sat down at last, the planchette pointed to the word "yes".

"Did you…" Liz said. Tommy took her hand. She squeezed it back.

"Let's just put the holy water on it…" Tommy stopped as the planchette slid over to the word "no".

Liz pushed Tommy backwards.

"Tell me you aren't moving it, Tommyknocker."

"Why would I move it?"

They stared at the planchette. It moved to the letters now, spelling something. Liz read the words out as if in a trance.

"Hello, Thomas and Elizabeth."

Tommy grabbed at Liz and squeezed her hand until she stopped reading and squealed in pain.

"Tommy! It knows our names!"

Tommy threw the holy water at the planchette, knocking it off the table and soaking the board. The water steamed dry almost at once. There was a shape in that steam.

Tommy and Liz ran out of the kitchen, both of them yelling. It was a moment before Tommy realised the doorbell was ringing hard enough to shake dust loose.

"Hello? Hello! I say, dratted muggles must not be able to hear the door…" a man's voice came through the heavy oak front door. Liz pushed Tommy behind her again and said,

"Oi! I'm warning you, we're armed! Go burgle someone else!"

The man's voice stopped, along with the ringing. After a pause full of the drumming rain, the man said,

"Young lady, I'd be more worried if you didn't have limbs. I'm afraid to say this is an official visit. Let me in, be a good girl."

Tommy tugged the back of Liz's dress. Liz shivered and pushed him off.

"Tommy, does your pa keep any guns?"

She knew perfectly well that papa was a doctor, not a murderer.

"No. But I could get mum's golf clubs," he whispered. Liz nodded and pushed him towards the closet where mum kept her drivers.

"I'm only letting you in the entrance," Liz said, her hand on the lock. Once Tommy had a club, she turned the lock.

A little man pushed through the door, sopping wet from the rain and looking extremely cross. He was wearing a very old-fashioned cloak and a tricorn.

"Really, it isn't polite to keep government officials waiting on the stoop, and in this weather! Wales!" the man said. He poured water off his hat onto the mat. Liz's mouth had fallen open and Tommy almost let go the golf club, before clutching tight at it.

"You're from the government?" he said. The man replaced his tricorn and removed his cloak. Underneath he had on a tailcoat and culottes.

"I am indeed, young man. My name is Mr. Ogden. You are both residents of 8 Eastgate, Cowbridge, Vale of Glamorgan, Wales?" the little man said. He fixed on a pair of pince-nez and brought out a little roll of paper. Tommy met Liz's eye.

"Well, I am," Tommy said.

The little man cleared his throat as he unfurled the paper.

"This is a notice that tonight at approximately 8:15 pm, a charm was used in the presence of a muggle. That is to say, one of you was doing magic," the man said. He peered from Tommy to Liz.

Liz swallowed loudly and pointed into the kitchen.

"You're telling me that the government…the prime minister sent you to tell us we were messing about with the ouija board?" she said.

Tommy caught himself before he laughed. The little man rolled up the paper with a huff.

"My dear girl, this is no laughing matter. And besides, the minister for magic sent me, not the muggle prime minister. Although strictly speaking, the minister for magic didn't send me personally. I'm merely here acting in accordance with the decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery."

Tommy felt his mouth go slack. Liz said,

"You're joking or you're mad."

The little man sighed.

"I must say that you're both taking this rather better than I thought. Normally when people are reprimanded for breaching the Statute, I find myself dodging hexes."

"But neither of us can use magic," Tommy said. He found himself releasing the golf club.

"Hm. How old are you, young man?" the little man said.

Tommy started to reply, but Liz put herself between them again.

"You don't have any right to barge in and ask him questions. If you're really from the Ministry, you ought to already know," she said.

That got Tommy thinking. He took Liz's hand as she pulled him to her side. The little man readjusted his pince-nez and checked the roll of paper.

"Let's see. This is 8 Eastgate, Cowbridge, Vale of Glamorgan, Wales. Residence of Dr. Davies-Maldonado and his wife, Lady Edmondes Davies-Maldonado. One child, Thomas Aquino Moore Davies-Maldonado. Hm, that would be you, young man?" the man looked down at Tommy.

"It's just Tommy," he said. He swallowed too and came up with a ball of questions, thick as spittle. "So you're here because of the ouija board? And you know all that about us? Neither of us can do magic. It must have been the ouija board! Are you taking it away? Is it cursed?"

The little man tucked the paper and his pince-nez away. He glanced at Liz before addressing Tommy.

"I'm afraid you really shouldn't be playing with such toys," he said. Liz bristled.

"It isn't a toy! I have to return it to my friend. You can't just take people's property, we didn't know it was magic. We didn't do anything wrong."

The little man sighed and gave them both a kindly smile.

"Sometimes magic can run away with us," he said.

"Sir, Mr. Ogden? If we didn't know we were doing magic, are we really in trouble?" Tommy said. Mr. Ogden's smile didn't change.

"I think, perhaps, if I might inspect the offending wee-ja board? A cup of tea wouldn't go amiss either," he said.

Liz looked down at Tommy. Tommy glanced over his shoulder into the kitchen before looking at her.

"It's your house, Tommy, but I'm supposed to be minding you. Your pa will be home soon," she whispered.

Tommy knew she'd protect him. He supposed, if papa would be home at any moment, he'd protect them both.

"It's alright, I suppose. My father will be home shortly, and I think you'll have to speak to him," Tommy said. Mr. Ogden gestured for them to lead him through to the kitchen.

Once they were there, Tommy found he couldn't look at the oujia board. Liz went for the teapot with one glare at Mr. Ogden, but she didn't look at the table either.

"Is this the offending item? Well, a simple charm will reveal whether this is enchanted," Mr. Ogden said. He drew out what could only be a magic wand.

Tommy watched the gleaming stick as Mr. Ogden waved it over the table.

"Specialis Revelio!" Mr. Ogden said.

"That isn't proper Latin," Liz said. Mr. Ogden ignored her, keen on the ouija board instead.

"Well, it isn't enchanted. This means that one of you, inadvertently I'm sure, used the charm. Now, young lady—"

"—Miss McGillicuddy," Liz said, cutting over him. Tommy watched Mr. Ogden's wand. If he cast a spell on her, Tommy would take the wand and snap it.

"—Very well. Miss McGillicuddy, I have a feeling this is just a simple accidental breakthrough. I'll have a word with your parents, Tommy, but I don't think there's any need for…" Mr. Ogden stopped. They all heard the footsteps pounding up the walk. Tommy realised they hadn't shut the front door properly.

"Tommy? Thomas! Liz! Gatito!"

Papa burst into the kitchen with his muddy shoes still on and his hat sopping water into his face. He stared at all three of them before pointing at Mr. Ogden.

"Sir, this is a private residence. I must ask you to leave."

Mr. Ogden stood up and offered papa a seat.

"Dr. Davies-Maldonado? I just want a quick word with you about your son and—"

"—Sir, if you do not leave at once I shall summon the police," papa said. He stared at Mr. Ogden as though Mr. Ogden was a mad criminal. Considering his strange clothing, Tommy knew papa might not be far off.

"Papa, he, um, came to tell us we were doing magic without a license," Tommy said.

Papa snorted and seized Tommy away from the table. Liz came to their side.

"Sir. Leave now."

Mr. Ogden hadn't put his wand away, but he hadn't pointed it at papa yet. However, Tommy watched the wand tip shaking in Mr. Odgen's hand.

"Dr. Davies-Maldonado, I'm afraid I cannot leave before explaining your duties under the Statute for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery as the parent of a—"

"—We do not believe in magic, sir," papa said. He put his arm around Liz and Tommy and pressed them close to him. His greatcoat had already soaked through Tommy's shirt.

Mr. Ogden nodded. He pointed the wand at the teapot and said, "Mobiliahenum."

The teapot sprouted tiny china legs and trotted to Mr. Ogden's waiting hand. Papa went slack under his greatcoat and Liz squealed.

"It moved!" she squeaked.

"My god," papa breathed.

"But we can't do that! We haven't got wands," Tommy said.

Mr. Ogden smiled at Tommy and papa and waved his wand. The china legs vanished.

"Dr. Davies-Maldonado, as you can see, I am a wizard. I believe I'm right in thinking that your son has some magical ability as well. Being muggles, you and your wife couldn't have known ahead of time. The Ministry of Magic will send representatives to discuss Tommy's magical training soon, I should think. In the mean time, we ask you to—"

"—Sir. Tommy cannot do magic," papa said. He sounded flat and tired, but his arm was steady at Tommy's back.

"Please, call me Bob. Dr. Davies-Maldonado, ahem, Tommy is what we call muggle-born. It means that, though you and Lady Davies-Maldonado cannot do magic, Tommy has the ability. It's quite important that he receive training. There could be accidents otherwise. Tonight, for example, I was sent to intervene when Tommy and Miss McGillicuddy were engaged in unlicensed charming of a muggle artifact."

Papa squeezed Tommy and knelt to look at him.

"Gatito, does this make sense to you?"

Papa used his normal, quiet voice, but Tommy's heart sank into his toes.

"Not really, papa. Liz and I were going to play with the ouija board and talk to Napoleon. We didn't mean to do magic."

Papa sighed. His voice didn't get any louder, but Tommy wanted to cry.

"Gatito, you know you're not supposed to play with things like that. I'm very disappointed in you, Gatito. You're to go straight to bed, with no wireless and no supper. I'm going to straighten everything out with this man."

"Uncle Aneirin, can I stay with Tommy tonight?" Liz said. Tommy couldn't look at her because his eyes smarted with tears. Papa spoke in the same quiet voice to her.

"We'll air out the guest room for you, Lizzy. And you should have known better to bring that thing to our house. I think, in future, we'll have to find someone else to mind Tommy. You two get into enough mischief."

"Yes, Uncle Aneirin." Liz actually hung her head. They went upstairs in silence. Tommy paused on the landing as Liz took his hand.

"I'm dying to hear what they're talking about. Tommy!" Liz's face lit up, "Tommyknocker you can do magic!"

"But I really can't," Tommy said. "I wasn't doing anything when we played ouija."

"Think, Tommy, think! Didn't you do anything unusual? Maybe it's all in your head," Liz said. She actually shook him, as if that would shake a memory loose.

"No! I just thought about the planchette moving by itself, I didn't say any words or…you know…cast any spells. You were there. You saw it. You know I didn't do anything!"

Liz shrugged.

"You must have without knowing. Listen, Tommy. If your papa will let you, they're going to train you to do real magic. And you saw what that Ogden could do. You could make the whole house grow legs if you wanted."

Tommy shuddered.

"No! I don't know any magic," he said.

Liz left him in his room, but Tommy didn't put on the light. He couldn't be magical. He'd know if he had magic powers!

There wasn't anything he could do that Liz or Owen couldn't do, except that he could catch snakes without trying and they couldn't. Tommy slid down to lean against the door.

He heard the front door close, and the stairs creak as Papa came up to say goodnight. Tommy still didn't move, not until Papa opened the door.

"Gatito? Why are you in the dark? On the floor?"

"I'm sorry, papa," Tommy said, hearing a definite snivel in his words. Papa sat down beside him in the doorway. He'd removed his wet coat, but underneath his shirt felt damp.

"Hijito, you'll catch your death of cold here on the floor."

"I'm sorry," Tommy sniffed hard to stop the sniveling. "I'll go to bed, I promise."

"Gatito, there will be someone around in the morning to talk to us, as a family. Hijito, you must promise to be very careful about magic until then. We'll all understand more in the morning," papa said.

Tommy was too surprised that he wasn't being punished to care that papa had gently lifted him and carried him to bed.

"So…I can do magic? Like…making the teapot grow legs?" Tommy said. Papa stroked the hair off Tommy's forehead and put Tommy's pajamas at his feet.

"You'd better not ruin your mother's china by giving them little feet. She'd be most upset," papa said. Tommy heard the smile behind his words.

"Yes papa. And, papa. I'll be good."

"Buenas noces, mijito gatito," papa said. He kissed the top of Tommy's forehead and closed the door fast against the strangeness and cold. Tommy didn't remember dreaming.


	2. Hogwarts Sept 1938

Tommy clung to his mum and papa as they made their way into King's Cross station. They'd taken the train from Cardiff into Paddington early in the morning, before Tommy was awake enough to feel nervous.

"Mum, are you sure you won't mind getting an owl letter?" he said, as they waited for their ministry escort. There were other students and families waiting beside the gates. Some of them looked nervous but many more looked excited. One girl had an owl in a cage.

"No, sweetheart, I wouldn't mind at all. I'll just be sure Grandmother isn't visiting first," mum said. Papa laughed and pushed his hat off his forehead. Tommy read his papa's nerves in the fading wrinkles.

"We'll have to get used to owl post too, gatito. You won't mind waiting while your muggle parents try to catch an owl for you?"

"I don't think you're a muggle, papa," Tommy said. The others waiting looked over at them. Some of the parents smiled at Tommy's family. One woman came over, clutching her purse and doing her best to look smart.

"I say, you wouldn't happen to know when our escort will arrive? They did tell us the platform number, but of course it was a little muddled," she said, avoiding looking directly at them.

Tommy watched his parents as papa fished for Tommy's ticket. Platform 9 3/4 couldn't be real. It must be code for something.

"Yes, the number isn't very clear," papa said, tipping his hat as he spoke. Tommy released his parents' hands at last to get closer to the owl in the cage. Mum hadn't wanted him to bring an owl, so Tommy had the family cat in a wicker basket atop his trunk.

"Is your owl a post owl?" Tommy asked the girl feeding the owl through the bars. She wiped her hands on her coat.

"It is. I'm allergic to cats. Yours looks nice though," she said. Tommy smiled.

"It isn't magical or anything. We got this one from my uncle." Tommy paused to smile too. "Did you know you were magical? Before you got your interview, I mean?" he said. The girl nodded as her face brightened.

"I've always been really lucky! I can find things people lose, money and keys and things. Once I found a lady her lost dog, and I found a little boy who'd been lost at Harrods. I got an ice cream for that. Mum says I could find a needle in a haystack when no one else knew there was a needle to find."

Tommy grinned now.

"I wish I could do that! I'd find lost civilizations, ancient burial sites. I'm going to be an archeologist, you know," he said. "I'm Tommy. Tommy Davies-Maldonado."

"I'm Maisie Gardner. Do you know which House you're going to be in?" Maisie asked. Tommy glanced at his parents. They were comparing train schedules with Maisie's. At least, he thought they might be. All four looked worried. Tommy swallowed first.

"No, I didn't think we could know that. Isn't that why we get Sorted?"

"If you could pick a House, though?" Maisie said. Tommy shrugged so Maisie continued. "I want to be in Hufflepuff. It sounded nice."

"Mm. They all did," Tommy said, but someone laughed right as he spoke. A boy pushed his way between Maisie's cart, upsetting her owl.

"Hufflepuff sounded nice? You must be joking!" he said. Maisie stuck her tongue out.

"Well they did!" she said, and she blew a raspberry. Her mother hurried over.

"Maisie, really, young ladies do not make those faces," she said. Maisie scowled.

Tommy tried to back away, towards his own parents, but the new boy followed. He'd already put on part of the uniform.

"Are you a firstie too?" the boy said. Tommy wasn't sure if he liked this boy yet, so he shrugged and pretended to fiddle with the cat basket. "I am, but of course I already know which House I'll be in, and I can promise you it won't be Hufflepuff. My family's all magical. Are yours?" the boy said.

Tommy shrugged again.

"They look muggle, but then again it might be a clever ruse. Are they? Are you waiting to get onto the platform? I can show you, you know, I've seen it done before," the boy said.

Tommy opened his mouth to say he'd prefer to wait for the escort but the boy seized his hand and shook it.

"I'm Alphard Black. You might have heard of us. We're well established here in London."

"Tommy Davies-Maldonado," Tommy said, trying to free his hand. Alphard Black giggled. He had dimples when he giggled.

"Is that really your name? Why's it so long?"

"My papa—"

"— Never mind, my middle name's Rigel. I suppose you must be muggle-born, but I won't tell anyone if you won't tell them my middle name."

"Rigel?" Tommy said. Alphard had led them to a barrier beside the platforms. There were people all around them, but no one paid them any attention. Alphard hovered near a group of teenagers, all of them in school uniforms. Some of them had House crests on their vests.

"See, we'll wait for these Ravenclaws to stop clogging the line," Alphard said. He giggled again when Tommy gasped. The teenagers, apparently with no ill effect, had passed through the barrier and vanished.

"But! But!"

"It's magic, keeps the muggles out," Alphard said. He pushed Tommy through before Tommy could protest.

It felt like moving through a heavy curtain. On the other side of the magical barrier a red steam engine belched smoke over the crowds. Tommy stared at all the people, many of them dressed much more wizard-like, until Alphard tapped him on the shoulder.

"You might not want to do that. Those thugs there are Gryffindors. They'll pound you if they think you're staring. It's in the Gryffindor character to be brutish and nasty," Alphard said. Tommy chose to stare at him instead.

"You're joking, aren't you?" he said. Alphard's dimples winked. Tommy slowly smiled back. He supposed he could get used to Alphard. Hopefully not all of his classmates talked this much.

"I wish I was. My cousin Orion told me that Gryffindors will pound any firstie they find. So you'd better not let them catch you. Mind you, if you know any jinxes or hexes you could fight back. I do. I know the leg-locker curse. Well, I would, my stupid sister put it on me once, so I learned it just to spite her. She's the year ahead of us. Don't cross her, she's as mean as a dragon and dumber than a troll."

By now Tommy's parents had come through along with the rest of the crowd. Papa frowned at him as they caught up to Tommy and Alphard.

"Tommy, you should know better than to run off, and on your first day," papa said. Tommy flushed and scuffed his shoes. Alphard took his hand all of a sudden, like he was claiming luggage. Tommy tried tugging free, to no avail.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Davis-Maladono, I thought I'd show Tommy how to get through, since he didn't know. I'm Alphard Black, of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Tommy and I are in the same year," Alphard said.

Papa looked bewildered, but mum smiled at Alphard.

"Well, how kind of you, Alphard. But, aren't your parents with you?" mum said. Alphard hadn't let go yet. He shook his head so that his curly hair bounced.

"Nope, never, they're with my baby brother. We're not muggles, you see, they trust me to get on the train by myself."

Just as Tommy turned to question this obvious fib and mum laughed, a girl ran up to them. She was also already in uniform and looked mad as a wet hen. She had the same curly hair as Alphard.

"You little lobalug! Mother and Father wanted you to stay with us!" she snarled as she grabbed Alphard. In a very loud whisper, she added, "And for Heaven's sake, don't talk to muggles! Everyone will think you're one of them!"

"Er, bye," Tommy said as the girl marched Alphard away. Alphard made a hideous face before adding a comically sad pout. Mum and papa both chuckled.

"You've made one friend at least," mum said.

"You'll see the boy again at school, gatito," papa added. The conductor blew the whistle just then. Tommy jumped and crashed against the cart with his trunk and cat basket. It couldn't be time to leave yet. He still had so many questions!

"Ouch! Mum, papa…you will write to me?" he said. They'd said there'd be school owls to get letters from home, but could his mother use a magical animal? Tommy pretended his mum wasn't sniffling as she fussed with his collar.

"Of course, Tommyknocker, we'll be fine. We'll write you twice a day."

"We'll get a dovecote full of messenger pigeons," papa added. His eyes were wet as well, and papa never cried. Tommy hugged them both before the conductor called, "All aboard for Hogwarts! All aboard! Make your goodbyes please!"

"I love you, mum!" Tommy said, hugging her hard as papa handed his trunk off. Then, he hugged papa as hard as he could. "Twice a day, every day! You promised!" he said. Papa always kept his word.

"We won't forget, mijito gatito," papa said.

Tommy leapt onto the train after his trunk and waved as it pushed away from the platform. His parents did their best not to look sad, but as they disappeared into the steam, Tommy felt a lump well up in his throat. What was he supposed to do now? He'd never been allowed to take the train by himself, least of all a magical train full of wizards in training.

As he moved along the carriages, he watched the older students. Most of them were in uniform and joking together. Some mixed with students from other Houses, but some were all clumped together by shared ties and House crests.

Maisie Gardner had found a seat with some other girls. They were petting Maisie's owl and giggling together. Tommy moved on, feeling lonely. He'd just had time to wonder if they'd serve lunch when a compartment door slid open and Alphard popped out.

"Come along, Davis-Maladono! We're going to play Gobstones! I can teach you!"

"It's actually Davies-Maldonado. And people just call me Tommy," Tommy said as he pushed his trunk into the compartment. Alphard sat with two other boys and his extremely grumpy sister.

"This is Wallie, my sister, Ivor Lestrange and my cousin, Cuthbert Crabbe. Everyone, this is Tommy Davies-Maldonado, who'll henceforth be known as Tommy," Alphard said, flourishing with his wand.

Tommy hadn't taken his own wand out yet, not since he'd brought it home last week. The shopkeeper told him it was a powerful wand, and he'd need to learn mastery of it first. It was awful waiting to use it, but thinking of the telling-off he'd hear if he ignored the law stopped him from peeking early. It was just as bad as waiting to unwrap Christmas presents!

"Are we allowed to have our wands out?" Tommy said, sitting beside Alphard.

Wallie sneered at him.

"This is why we don't let muggle-borns into Slytherin! You probably don't even know which end to point at people!"

Cuthbert, who was fair and stocky, shrugged and nodded.

"Well, it's only against the rules to do spells. But you can take it out. We won't squeal," he said.

Tommy did so while Wallie scoffed and made huffy noises.

"I can't believe I have to babysit a bunch of muggle-loving brats!"

"Shut up, Wallie, Tommy can't help being a muggle. We'll set him right, won't we?" Alphard said. His sister slapped him in response.

"You shut up! I'm going to go find Lucretia. You stay here, and don't buy anything from the trolley! I'm not bailing you out for pumpkin cakes again!"

After she'd slammed the carriage door, Alphard let out a whistle.

"Told you, she's an absolute hag. Once I know the tongue-tying hex, I'm going to do it all the time."

"Wouldn't," Ivor said. He was rolling around a bunch of what looked like solid gold marbles. Tommy waited for them to do something magical, but it wasn't until Cuthbert snatched at one that anything happened. The marble squirted a slimy, stinking bout of something into his face, making him swear and sending Alphard and Ivor into fits of giggles.

"It's not poisonous, is it?" Tommy asked. He passed Cuthbert his handkerchief but didn't take it back. It stank!

"Don't be thick! He's the idiot for upsetting them. Go on, Tommy, you were going to take out your wand. I'll bet it's new. Mine's not. It was my grandfather's. He used to be Headmaster, you know," Alphard said.

"Do only muggle-borns get new wands?" Tommy said. He hated standing out but asking them might help him disguise his newness and ignorance of how wizards did things.

"No," Ivor said. He'd gone back to his gobstones, joined now by a fuming Cuthbert. While they played, Alphard leaned close and whispered in Tommy's ear.

"Don't be afraid to ask me for anything, Tommy. My family's all pureblood, I know practically everything there is to know about Hogwarts and magic. Like I said, my grandfather was even Headmaster."

Tommy turned and smiled at Alphard, already thinking of more questions. He knew Alphard was exaggerating, but it was a relief to know at least someone would help him get his footing.

"Say, you can call me Alfie if you like," Alphard said, smiling too. He seemed keen to show off how helpful he could be.

"Alright, Alfie. So, which House is your sister in, so I can avoid it in the Sorting?" Tommy said. Alfie elbowed him and giggled. He pulled at a curl over his forehead and made a face like Wallie's.

"Oh don't, because then we wouldn't be in the same House! She's a Slytherin. We all are, or will be. I will be. It runs in families. You're lucky, you'll probably have your pick. So pick Slytherin, alright," Alfie said.

Alfie spent the rest of the hour describing why Slytherin was the best House, with Ivor and Cuthbert chiming in at intervals. It wasn't until the lunch trolley came by that Alfie, now hoarse, stopped.

"So, phew, so that's why Slytherin is best! We have a proven record of success," he said, before swigging from a bottle of pumpkin juice.

Tommy'd bought a few things labelled chocolate frogs or peppermint toads, but he waited until Ivor had unwrapped his. Tommy wanted to know what he'd be in for and wasn't surprised when the chocolate frog in Ivor's hand leapt onto the luggage rack.

"Bollocks. Got Merlin again. Trade with me?" Ivor said, shoving a card into Alfie's hand.

Tommy opened his frog carefully and managed to snatch it from mid-air as it leapt. He checked the card that had fallen out of the wrappings. A woman dressed like an old-fashioned witch looked haughtily up at him. After a moment, she brushed out her long red hair and began preening. The card read: Vivienne du Lac.

"Wizard! Your pictures move! Do all pictures move? Do they talk? That would be like having a talkie in your pocket!" Tommy watched as the sorceress brushed out her hair and then cast a spell that sent it into elaborate braids.

"Well of course they move and talk," Alfie said, inspecting his own cards before swapping with Ivor. "What's a talkie?"

"A talkie, a talking picture. Like _The Crimes of Stephan Hawke_ or _A Yank at Oxford_."

"What's a Yank?" Ivor said. Alfie leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with interest.

"You mean muggles have pictures that talk too? What do yours talk about?"

Tommy suppressed a laugh and he fished a ticket stub out of his coat pocket.

"We don't talk to them, we watch them. They're big huge pictures on a screen, they tell stories."

"But how do you get them to move? Is it with magic?" Alfie said. He took the ticket stub but ignored it for Tommy.

"No, it's with a projector. A machine that makes the pictures move. With electricity."

"I didn't know electricity made pictures move," Alfie said. By now Ivor and Cuthbert had dropped their game completely to stare at Tommy. Tommy sat straighter and continued.

"It's really a simple optical trick. The projector takes all the pictures on a roll of film and makes them move really fast, so you get the illusion of movement. Like in a flip-book?" Tommy said. When the others continued to look baffled, Tommy took out a fresh notebook and drew a stickman walking in the corners. Once he'd demonstrated, the other three looked even more astonished.

"Blimey, you muggles really are very clever to have thought up all that. Think, you don't even have magic to do it for you!" Alfie said. He'd turned pink from what Tommy imagined was embarrassment and excitement.

"I'm going to use my magic to help me. That way I can have the best of both," Tommy said. Alfie stopped looking admiring and the other two muttered at each other.

"Tommy, you can't mix the two. It's against the law. You'd be in trouble. Even we can't do that," Alfie said. Tommy sighed.

"And I thought I could use magic to look for more ancient civilizations," Tommy said. He slumped backwards as Alfie ate the rest of his sweets in a hurry. Afterwards, Alfie leaned close to him again.

"Cheer up, you know it won't always be illegal for you to use magic. You could become a curse-breaker for Gringotts if you want to find ancient treasures."

"Mm," Tommy said. Alfie sighed too and took out a newspaper called _The Daily Prophet._ It too had moving pictures, but no sound. "It's like a newsreel," Tommy said. He read the headlines, but they were about things he'd never heard of. The International Confederation of Wizards had called an emergency meeting about something called "The Grindelwald Situation".

"Who's Grindelwald?" Tommy said, reading over Alfie's shoulder.

"Some nutter who's trying to take over Ruritania. I say let him have it, all they have there are snargaluff farms and troll caverns," Alfie said. "Damn damn, double damn! The Falcons are out of the league again! Those dummies couldn't fly toy broomsticks!" Alfie turned to the sports section before Tommy could finish reading about Grindelwald's antics.

"But wait, they were talking about that stuff on the Continent. My papa says they're going to declare war soon," Tommy said.

Alfie was still buried in a story about "quidditch".

"Grindelwald is about as much our problem as Hitler is," Alfie said vaguely. Tommy wanted to disagree, but before he could, a prefect knocked on their compartment door.

"You lot should be packing up now and in uniform. And you, Black, are requested to join your sister," the prefect said. He had a golden badge pinned just under his House crest, the green and silver Slytherin colours.

"Bollocks to that, Malfoy," Alfie said as he dragged out his school robes. Tommy followed suit as the prefect Malfoy left, snickering.

"Don't you think Hitler is a problem? Papa says he's taking over everywhere," Tommy said after he'd straightened his robes. He felt like someone in fancy dress.

"He's just a muggle. My father says Grindelwald has the right ideas. He makes the squibs and muggles work for the wizards," Cuthbert said. Tommy shuddered.

"That sounds horrid. Like slavery."

"It could be worse," Cuthbert said, shrugging now. Alfie made a sympathetic face at Tommy.

By the time they'd pulled into the Hogwarts station, it was dark and cold. There were no electric lights, only gas lamps. It was like walking into the pictures in a history textbook. Alfie took his hand as the prefects shepherded them to the far end of the platform.

"Why's it all dark? Why don't you have electric lights?" Tommy whispered. Someone with an old-fashioned lantern led them down a flight of stone steps to a fleet of waiting boats.

"Electricity and magic don't work together. They cancel each other out. More's the pity, I'd love to see one of your talkies," Alfie whispered. They shared a boat with Cuthbert and Ivor. Nearby, Maisie and her friends were giggling and splashing at each other.

Tommy wasn't surprised when the boats moved by themselves off into what appeared to be a huge lake. He didn't let go of Alfie's hand. They both gasped when the fleet of boats rounded a promontory and a huge castle, turrets glowing with hundreds of windows, came into view.

"You didn't say there'd be a castle!" Tommy whispered. Alfie squeezed his hand until it hurt.

"It's even more wonderful than I imagined!"

"I'm definitely looking for treasure here! I bet you we'll find secret passages and hidden dungeons and everything," Tommy said. Alfie giggled, and Tommy imagined his dimples.

"They can't all be secret. We have classes in the dungeons, and our common room."

"Oh."

After they disembarked on a pier under the castle, the man with the lantern led them upstairs into a small, wood-paneled room. It felt terribly stuffy. Tommy counted about forty other first years crammed in with him. Cuthbert and Ivor were talking with some of the girls. Alfie still hadn't let go of Tommy.

"You nervous?" he whispered.

Tommy considered his feelings before answering.

"Not exactly. I think…whatever you say about Hufflepuff, any House would be good."

"Oh alright, be that way. If you're in Hufflepuff I shall never speak to you again," Alfie said, with an exaggerated pout. Right after he'd quieted, the double doors opposite them opened into a Great Hall. A man stood in the doorway, very tall, in emerald wizard robes. His pointed hat seemed to scrape the ceiling.

"Alright, first years, I'm Professor Dumbledore. You'll be Sorted in Alphabetical order. Line up, please," the professor said. Tommy reluctantly crept forward, being shunted along by Alfie. The other first years followed him.

Being first in line, Tommy looked over Professor Dumbledore's shoulder into the Great Hall. The ceiling seemed to mirror the night sky, swirling with clouds and slivers of stars. The other professors sat on a raised platform. Before them sat a stool with a tattered old hat. Professor Dumbledore smiled down at Tommy.

"Chin up. There's no need to be nervous about Sorting."

Tommy frowned.

"I'm not frightened," he said. Professor Dumbledore's smile shifted, but he said nothing as he led them out in front of the platform, facing the four long student tables.

Tommy watched the hat, wondering how it would Sort them, when the hat began flapping on the stool. As it flapped it sang a song about the four Hogwarts Houses and their virtues. It didn't mention Slytherin's "proven record", instead dwelling on cunning and ambition. Hufflepuff's virtues were patience and loyalty, Gryffindor's daring and nerve and Ravenclaw's cleverness.

After the song, Professor Dumbledore unrolled a long roll call and beckoned each first year forward. Alfie finally released Tommy's hand, only to be Sorted into Slytherin as he'd predicted.

When Tommy moved forward and had the Hat placed on his head, he didn't know what to expect. A small voice whispered out of the hat, seemingly right into his mind.

"My word, I don't think I've sorted a Gaunt in years. Well, it will be Slytherin for you, as all the rest."

"A Gaunt?" Tommy thought, a funny tingling spreading down his neck. "What do you mean? I'm not Gaunt, I'm Tommy Davies-Maldonado."

"If you say so, although I'd know a Gaunt anywhere. SLYTHERIN!"

The Hat bellowed this last to the Hall and Tommy was shunted toward the Slytherin table. He joined Alfie, still feeling the tingling on his neck. The little voice had left a stone in his stomach even the rich school food couldn't displace.


	3. Fall Term 1938

Tommy knew exactly what his papa would say about their dormitory. It was unhealthy, no air, no light. After dinner, he'd followed Alfie and the rest of the Slytherins down into the dungeons. A prefect instructed them about the password, before showing them into a cavernous underground chamber. There was a fireplace, somehow, and tapestries everywhere, but no windows, no fresh air. Their dormitory was lit with candles and as windowless as the common room.

Alfie bounced on his bed, his tie and wizard's hat askew.

"It's like being in the Chamber of Secrets!" he crowed.

Cuthbert and Ivor were both dressed for bed. Tommy reluctantly got into his pajamas, while Alfie jumped off his bed and onto his trunk.

"Stop bouncing around, you're like a jack-in-the-box," Tommy said after Alfie'd knocked Tommy in the head with his elbow.

"Oh come off it, don't you think it's amazing being here! We've got our own lair, our own Chamber of Secrets," Alfie said. He stopped bouncing once Tommy'd glared at him.

"Oh alright, I suppose it's wizard having a secret common room. But there's no windows," Tommy said.

"You wouldn't want windows underground, all we'd see is the bottom of the lake," Alfie retorted. He lowered his voice as a prefect came to check they were in bed. Once the lights were out, Tommy turned on his side and hissed at Alfie,

"What's a Chamber of Secrets?"

Alfie replied with a gloating giggle,

"Salazar Slytherin's secret chamber! Supposedly he built one somewhere in the castle, to hide all his magical treasures. That's a secret room that's never been found."

"No one's ever found it?" Tommy whispered.

"No, I just said! Not that I've heard. People have tried, of course, but Old Sal was a sneaky one. He must have hidden it so well to protect it from his enemies."

"Shut up!" Cuthbert snapped, interrupting Tommy's next question. Tommy hushed up, in case Cuthbert called a prefect on them. Even though the room had no windows, he fell asleep as if it was his bedroom at home.

* * *

><p>By the end of his first week, the novelty of being a wizard had worn off. Tommy discovered they weren't allowed to do magic outside of classes, which irked him and the rest of the Slytherin first years.<p>

"How are we supposed to practice?" he'd ask a sympathetic Alfie after being set homework.

"We could just, you know, cheat," Alfie always replied. Tommy pretended he was above cheating, but whenever he was alone in his dorm (and it wasn't often) he attempted one of their simple spells. By the third try he'd managed to ignite his wand tip and promptly had to hide this from Malfoy, who'd come to shepherd the first years to flying lessons. Tommy didn't take to flying at all. There were so many better things to do with his time, like go through the palatial library.

* * *

><p>True to their word, his parents took turns writing him each week. Mum usually asked him if he'd turned someone into a frog or a rat. He joked back that rats and frogs were too advanced, but he had turned Walburga Black into a fruit fly. Papa always wanted to know if Tommy'd made friends and if the school food had improved since his school days.<p>

"Your parents write so much, you should just floo them," Alfie said on Saturday morning after they'd trooped up to the Owlery for the fifth time to post a reply.

"What's flooing?" Tommy said. They skipped returning to the common room to get hot tea in the Great Hall instead.

"You can use floo powder to talk to people at home. Whenever me and Cyggy visit our cousins, mother always floos us to make sure we're behaving. She doesn't trust me at all," Alfie said. Tommy could understand why, but he didn't say so aloud.

"Floo powder's that stuff you throw in the fire? Isn't it easier to have a telephone?" Tommy said, just to hear Alfie's reply.

"Oh, Tommy, really! Don't be thick, I keep telling you that magic can't mix with your muggle things. Who'd want to use a tellyphone when you can talk to your chum using floo powder?" Alfie said.

Tommy sighed as he helped himself to scones with lots of butter. They didn't always get butter at home, not since the Depression.

"Maybe it works for wizards. But my family aren't wizarding, and I want to talk to them."

"We could always sneak you some floo powder," Alfie said. Tommy grinned. He was certain they could.

* * *

><p>Tommy and Alfie were both returning home for Christmas. Alfie found this all highly amusing. He also found the mistletoe, used to decorate the corridors, amusing.<p>

Tommy'd already been kissed by all the girls in their year and had learned to stop protesting once the other boys told him to shut it.

"It's because you're pretty," Alfie said. Tommy snorted but both Cuthbert and Ivor looked jealous.

"Boys can't be pretty," Tommy said.

"You are," Alfie said. He turned pink. Later that day, their last day of classes, Alfie got his first kiss under the mistletoe. He claimed he didn't mind either, but then he'd pout if Tommy or Cuthbert asked him what it was like.

"Next time, protect me from those girls! They have germs!" Alfie hissed. Tommy did no such thing. Fortunately there was no mistletoe on the train.

They shared a compartment, Alfie describing his family's elaborate Christmas plans, all of which Tommy doubted.

"…And this year we're having real fairies on our Christmas tree, as they're easier to manage than the wood nymphs and satyrs," Alfie finished. Tommy rolled his eyes in response, before biting the head off a peppermint toad. It had stopped disgusting him ages ago. "What do you normally trim your tree with?" Alfie continued.

"Mm. We use Grandmother's ornaments. She used to put up a huge tree at the Great House at Crossfields. But now she's old and it's a bit expensive to do a big tree. So since the Depression, we have a small tree. Usually mum or Grandmother will have a concert and we sing traditional Welsh carols. My other grandmother, from Argentina, came to visit one year when I was very small. That was wizard. But since the Depression she lives—"

"—Tommy, you keep saying Depression. What, have the muggles come over all sad now?" Alfie said. He grabbed the last peppermint toad.

"I don't really know what it means…it means that not everyone has as much money as they used to, I suppose. Some people lost their jobs and homes. Papa didn't. He's a doctor, so we're lucky."

Tommy shivered. Liz and her family had also been spared, mostly because Aunt Marie was a farm woman and Uncle Stig was a veterinarian. He knew how to keep animals and had been poor as a boy. Owen Owens's father hadn't been so lucky. He'd been out of work and on the dole for years. Mum sometimes helped the Owenses out by passing along odd jobs to Owen and Lottie.

"What's a doctor?" Alfie said. Tommy thought for a long time, before remembering what the Sorting Hat had said. He hadn't called him Tommy Davies-Maldonado, or mentioned being a doctor's son.

"What's a Gaunt?" Tommy replied. Alfie actually stopped talking a moment.

"Er…your guess is as good as mine. I say, I could look it up for you at home? I'm sure it's a type of magical beast," Alfie said. The train thunked and began slowing down. Sooty backyards, which had at first blurred by, came into focus as they entered London proper.

"Happy Christmas," Tommy said. He hadn't time to give his friends at school anything more than cards, so he was shocked when Alfie pressed a small, wrapped present into his hands.

"Happy Christmas, Tommy. Don't mention this to Wallie, she'd cruciate me!"

"I won't but…I didn't get you anything," Tommy said. Alfie put his finger over Tommy's lips and winked.

"Shush. You can owe me back in the New Year. I prefer chocolate cauldrons with fire whiskey."

They separated on the platform, Alfie being dragged away by his younger brother, Cygnus and horrid Walburga. Tommy got a jolt when he met Liz with his parents on the other side of the barrier.

"Halloo Tommyknocker," Liz said. She wore a uniform under a great coat similar to papa's. Both of them glowed with pride.

"Mum! Papa!" Tommy hugged his parents first, before giving Liz a curious look. "Liz?"

"Get him, he's acting like I wouldn't be here for his first Christmas home," Liz said. She gestured at her uniform. "I'm taking flying lessons. My young man is in the RAF."

"Your…" Tommy wondered if she was teasing him as usual. Papa gave him a gentle squeeze.

"Gatito, you don't think Liz should have a young man?"

"No, but…I thought you were working," Tommy said. His parents laughed as they led him out of King's Cross and onto the Underground.

"I am working. I'm training to be a pilot, kiddo," Liz said. Tommy stared. Mum looked as proud as if Liz were her own daughter.

"It really is marvelous, Lizzy. And you do suit a uniform," she said. "Your parents will come around eventually."

"Oh, Auntie Gwen, it's not the uniform they object to. It's Alec. They think he'll do a runner, marry some famous American heiress," Liz said.

The Underground seemed unusually full of young men and women in uniform. It had been months since Tommy'd seen a muggle newspaper, but almost every headline or front page had images of tanks and soldiers or else people rallying around a sinister, spiky symbol.

"Papa, mum, they really don't get all the news at school. What's happening?" Tommy said, pointing at a man's newspaper. The static photographs were more unsettling than any enchanted photo. Papa kept Tommy pressed to his side.

"There's talk of war, gatito," papa said. He sounded grim as he always did when war came up. Tommy knew his papa remembered the last war, the Great War. The war that was supposed to end all wars.

Though Christmas decorations covered all the shop windows Tommy saw, there was a sense of purpose in every passerby, and posters advertising recruitment and regimental parades. The newspapers he glimpsed mentioned "Nazi atrocities".

* * *

><p>Christmas week, usually full of excitement, seemed stuffed to bursting this year. Liz and her parents, Uncle Stig and Aunt Marie, had both come to stay. Grandmother had tins of Christmas pudding aging in the vast cellars of Crossfields. Aunt Marie would prepare their Christmas turkey this year the way they had in Belgium when she was a small girl.<p>

Tommy had his traditional snowball fight with Owen on the one day they managed to escape the preparations. Owen and his family were going to Cardiff for Christmas. Tommy didn't mention his school, but Owen sounded envious when he heard Tommy got to take a train.

Christmas Day, Liz took Tommy aside after he'd unwrapped his presents. Papa had given him a new book, _The Hobbit,_ and mum had got him new skates. Uncle Stig and Aunt Marie were both already awake.

"What is it?" Tommy said, eager to get things over with so he could start his book. Liz looked pretty in a new dress Aunt Marie had sewn her. She also smelled like cigarettes, something she hadn't before.

"My parents don't know all the details about your school, you know that," she said. Tommy nodded. Liz had been lectured about keeping his magical nature secret by Ministry of Magic representatives.

"And?" Tommy said. Liz bit her lip and frowned in thought.

"Tommy, my young man is someone you know. He doesn't know either, of course, but he'll remember you and, well…he might have a sharp idea that you're exceptional."

"Alec, you mean?" Tommy said.

He remembered Alec Montgomery. They'd met the Montgomery clan in Nice, years ago, when they'd stayed at Baron and Lady DeLacy's summer home. Fitzgerald had been murdered there, and they'd never returned. Tommy had the impression Alec had been too snobby for Liz.

"That's right. We reconnected while you were at school. He's always been…well…Tommy, he's coming for Christmas dinner with us, specially. My pa doesn't like him, but I want this to be a chance to change things. Alec isn't a nob. He's not bad at all."

Tommy read her desperation as easily as he read the headlines. She wasn't the sort to lose her head over a man, but her heart was another story.

By the time Aunt Marie and Liz had the turkey in the oven, his parents had the dining room bedecked with streamers and garlands. Uncle Stig helped by keeping Tommy busy.

"You liking school so far, old man?" Uncle Stig said. He and Tommy were supposed to be cleaning up the wrapping paper from the presents but they'd actually started building with his Meccano set.

"I am," Tommy said. He'd attempted the Tower Bridge in London and given it up for a bad job.

"Making friends alright? No one giving you a hard time?" Uncle Stig pressed. Tommy tried to tease an answer out of Uncle Stig's face, his tense hands. Uncle Stig had been scarred by a gas attack during the Great War. At first his blistered skin unnerved people but Tommy found his hands, which had been protected, were just as expressive as eyes.

"One of the boys in my dorm, Alfie, gave me a present."

Tommy watched what effect this news might have. Uncle Stig's eyes sparkled the way Liz's did, even under his blistered skin.

"You and this Alfie getting on, then?"

"Sure, why wouldn't we?" Tommy stopped because Uncle Stig's eyes had misted over. He was far away, somewhere sweet and sad. Papa walked in just then.

"Hijito gatito, your mother wants you to clean this mess up, not build it up!" papa said. He caught Tommy in a bear hug before Tommy could escape. But, when Tommy looked at Uncle Stig, that misty, soft look was turned on them.

* * *

><p>Alec arrived early. Tommy heard him and Liz whispering together before Alec made his formal introductions to Aunt Marie and Uncle Stig.<p>

"Such a handsome boy! I remember you were very cheeky, Alexander," Aunt Marie said.

Tommy, hidden behind the Christmas tree, peered through the branches.

"Thank you, ma'am. Sir," Alec said. His back was to Tommy, but he appeared to have tipped his fancy fedora to Uncle Stig. Uncle Stig said nothing.

They went through to the dining room, so Tommy snuck through from the sitting room. They sat down to Aunt Marie's oversized turkey. Mum and papa faced each other, with Tommy next, opposite Grandmother, then Uncle Stig and Aunt Marie and last, Liz and Alec.

"You're behind in your musical studies, Tommy," Grandmother said. He'd embarrassed himself with his rendition of O Holy Night on the piano. She hadn't stopped scolding him since.

"Tommy's very busy at school, Grandmother," mum said, coming to his defense.

"You still haven't told me _where_ this school is. Why, I've never heard of this Hogwarts," Grandmother said. "Isn't it ridiculous that you can't visit your own child properly? How do you know they're keeping him comfortable?"

Tommy swallowed hard. Liz glared at him.

"Oh, it's a very specialized school, Grandmother. It's quite exclusive, Tommy hasn't complained once," mum said. She cast papa a panicked look, so papa joined in.

"Yes, all of Tommy's classmates are like him, children with very rare gifts, Aunt Glynys," papa said.

Grandmother nodded at last.

"I see. Well, I've always said Tommy was unusually bright for his age," she said.

Tommy caught Alec's eye. Alec grinned at him. Like Alfie, Alec had dimples in his chin and curly dark hair that fell over his eyes.

"Is the school food better at least? I always hated school dinners. I had mother send me parcels full of sweeties. Made me and Jimmy very popular, I can tell you," he said.

"But you have some idea how Tommy is doing, Gwen? Doesn't Tommy have to take the train from London?" Aunt Marie said, with a quieting look at Uncle Stig. Uncle Stig was glaring at Alec as if he'd been cursing.

"Er, it's in a sweet little village, I can't recall the name…" mum floundered.

"The county at least?" Grandmother snapped.

"Banffshire," papa said at once. Alec perked up.

"What, all the way up there? Don't you freeze to death in your dorms?" he said. Tommy shook his head while Alec snickered. "Bit of a trek isn't it? Have your parents visited yet?" Tommy shook his head again while Alec's dimples winked. "They'd have you home in a heartbeat. Nothing but rocks and heather as far as the eye can see, and of course the North Sea if he ever thought of escaping that way."

"Have you been?" Tommy said. He hadn't known the sea was that close. Alec shook his head.

"Nae, I wouldn't go north if I had the choice. I'd go south again, maybe get to Italy. Then again—" he stopped as abruptly as if someone, Liz likely, had kicked him beneath the table.

"It's not very close to your home, is it, Alexander?" mum said. Grandmother and Aunt Marie watched handsome Alec as he grinned and shook his head.

"Nae, Lady Davies. We're in Kilwinning, that's miles away. Ayrshire."

"You had such a lovely home," mum said, while Alec pretended to shrug off this compliment.

"Nae, Lady Davies, your house is much nicer. There's less mice," Alec said.

"Thought you lived in a castle?" Uncle Stig cut in at last. He said castle the way other people said "pigsty."

While Aunt Marie scolded her husband in Walloon and Liz glared at her father, and while mum, papa and Grandmother quickly engaged in small talk over the Christmas pudding, Tommy burst out,

"I didn't know you lived in a castle! I do too, I go to school in a castle!"

Alec blinked at him, before chuckling.

"Do you? Is yours full of mice?"

"No, we have ghosts instead," Tommy said. He knew they'd find this amusing, all except mum and papa. They'd probably tell him off. Alec did indeed laugh, as did Aunt Marie and Grandmother. Even Liz and Uncle Stig broke into tired smiles.

"Ghosts, really, the boy has such an imagination," Grandmother told Aunt Marie.

"He's lucky enough to be getting a good education. You've heard what Hitler's doing in Germany," Aunt Marie said. The adults immediately began murmuring about the "Nazi atrocities" Tommy wasn't supposed to know. Before Tommy could get more than a vague sense of dread, Liz and Alec dragged him into the drawing room.

"That's not talk for you, little man," Alec said. Liz stalked in a circle around the tree while Tommy pouted.

"We don't get any news at school! We're not even allowed to go out into town yet. I don't know anything that's happening," Tommy said. Alec surprised him by sitting him down in the love seat and taking a chair opposite. Liz continued pacing.

"There's been a lot of nasty things happening on the Continent, little man. It's why Liz and I are enlisted. Well, I am, at any rate," Alec said, with a quick glance at Liz. Liz nodded, so he continued. "There could be war with Germany in the new year."

"But I thought the Great War was supposed to stop all that!" Tommy said. Alec gave him a pitying look, while Liz added, her words bitter,

"That's what they'd want us to believe. Their words mean nothing, the peace treaties. You're too young at least, Tommyknocker," Liz said.

Tommy found he despised his petname now.

"I am not! I'll be twelve in a week, and your pa told me boys that young were in the Great War!"

"And look at pa. Tommy, you know how many people he buried, his friends and family?" Liz said. Alec stood up and took her arms. He didn't seem to want to hug her in front of Tommy, but Tommy could read his wants easily.

"Hush. If it comes to war we'll beat the Hun back, just like we did last time. And let's pray it doesn't come to war at all. Last thing the boy needs to hear," Alec murmured.

Tommy despised being "the boy" even more than being a tommyknocker. He ran upstairs and threw himself onto his bed. He hadn't opened Alfie's present, and suddenly he hoped it was something magical, just so he didn't have to think about wars and Nazis and soldiers.

It was just a small hand mirror, the kind mum or Grandmother might keep in her handbag. It had an elaborate silver case, but there was nothing obviously magical about it.

Tommy put it on his bedside table with a huge sigh. He picked up _The Hobbit_ but found himself straining for any of the talk downstairs. No one had come to fetch him for tea.

"Psst."

Tommy blinked and strained at the noise. He peered over the top of his book. He'd left Bilbo and the dwarves at the mercy of the trolls.

"Hullo?" Tommy said.

He'd seen and heard strange things before. He'd seen Fitzgerald's killer creeping around the DeLacy property. He'd even met the ghost of Alec Montgomery's father in Nice. This was before he'd known he had magic powers, of course.

"Psst. Tommy! Where'd you leave the mirror, you prat, all I can see is the ceiling!"

It sounded like Alfie. Tommy snatched the mirror up from his bedside table. Alfie's face peered up at him from behind the glass.

"It's a two-way mirror! I thought you might sneak me into a talkie this way," Alfie said. His dimples winked.

"This is wizard! We could talk in secret! This is like being spies! Did you find out what a Gaunt is?" Tommy added the last bit in a whisper.

Alfie shrugged on the other end of the mirror and giggled.

"Well, I checked in books about magical creatures and I couldn't find it. Then I had to visit with our horrible Aunties and Uncles. I couldn't get any research in. But then, just this morning, I was supervising our House Elf putting up decorations in the drawing room and you know what we have there?"

"No! What?"

"A tapestry," Alfie said. Tommy knew Alfie was winding him up.

"Alphard Black, the minute I learn that toenail hex I'm getting you," Tommy said. Alfie relented at last.

"Our family tapestry. And one of my great great great grandmama's was named Gaunt. Leda Gaunt. So, it's a family name!"

Tommy's hands shook so he set down the mirror. Alfie made an impatient noise.

"A family name. It can't be just a family name. The Sorting Hat called _me_ a Gaunt," Tommy said.

"Well, maybe it's been confunded?" Alfie said. Tommy took the mirror up and gave Alfie a small smile.

"I'm probably wanted for Christmas tea. But this mirror is wizard! If we do go to the cinema, I'll tell you tonight! But I doubt it. My uncle doesn't like Liz's new young man at all. It's going to be a very grim holiday," Tommy said. Alfie made a face, scrunching up his nose.

"Bollocks to that. See you tonight. Don't make me wait for you, Cyggy was asking for the mirrors so he could pester me."

"Right."

Tommy put the mirror back in its case before hiding it beside _The Hobbit_ in his bedside table.


	4. Winter Term 1939

They celebrated Tommy's birthday on New Year's Eve at the Great House at Crossfields. Grandmother had invited Uncle Stig and Aunt Marie out of kindness. Liz and Alec had both returned to their air force training.

Tommy's birthday, coming so close after Christmas, was much quieter. Tommy only got one present, another book. He didn't mind, he found he preferred being with family at the Great House rather than his cold dormitory.

He and Grandmother were listening to Welsh carols again on the wireless when Grandmother suddenly took him into a hug, surprisingly strong for her age.

"My little Tommy, my poor boy. Twelve already! I remember when Gwendolyn was that age, she was such a boisterous girl. Back then girls were supposed to be ladylike. I can tell you, your mother gave the very devil a run for his money," Grandmother then sighed and pushed the hair off Tommy's forehead. "You take after your papa. My, he was so polite and quiet. And you're looking peaky! You'll tell us if you don't want to go back to that school. And all the way in Scotland!"

"Of course, Grandmother," Tommy said.

He wanted to fuss, but Grandmother clung so hard her yearning tugged at him. He'd never asked her about his parents' schools. He knew mum went to a girls' school nearby, but papa rarely talked about school. All Tommy knew was that papa and Uncle Stig had been at school together, along with a few friends who sometimes dropped by. Many more friends had been buried with the Great War.

"Do you think there will be a war?" Tommy said. His Grandmother ought to know. She was so old she'd seen two wars already.

"Tommyknocker, don't you worry about it. Enjoy your childhood. Goodness knows you're already old enough," Grandmother said.

Tommy leaned against her while the carols finished and the announcer started an interview in Welsh with the lead singer. He knew Grandmother's family name was Edmondes, and papa's family name was Maldonado. Davies fit into the middle quite neatly, but…

"Grandmother, do you know any Gaunts?"

A tiny electric shock went through Grandmother then, but she pretended she didn't feel it.

"Gaunt? My dear boy, I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."

"But—"

"—Tommy, be a good boy and bring up the last tin of Christmas pudding. We'll have it as your birthday cake."

Grandmother looked fierce, so Tommy swallowed his protest and went down to the cellars. As he reached for the last cake tin, he heard someone muttering behind him.

"Hullo?" Tommy said. He wondered if it would be a ghost like Mr. Montgomery or some other unexpected magical device of Alfie's. As he peered into the musty gloom, he spotted a little figure in the corner. "Hey, you. Can I…can I help you?" Tommy said.

He wasn't sure if this creature was more human than animal, but it seemed halfway between. The creature had nut-brown skin and huge pointed ears, a wedge-shaped nose and it was dressed in a tea-towel.

"Sir, begging your pardon sir. Tomkin is just cleaning the mouse traps, sir."

Tommy started. He hadn't expected it to call him 'sir'.

"Well, alright. Can I help you do that?"

The creature looked affronted.

"Oh no, sir! Tomkin can do this job himself!"

"I'm sorry, I just thought. Have you been living here all winter?" Tommy wondered, at the same time wondering why he wasn't more frightened. The creature didn't look like any of the monsters they'd studied at school.

"Tomkin has lived here his whole life, sir! And his family has lived in the Great House for centuries."

"Oh! I'm sorry, Tomkin, but…what are you?"

Tomkin looked even more offended as he stuffed a dead mouse into a sack and tied a knot.

"Tomkin is a house elf, sir."

Everything clicked now.

"A house elf? That's wizard! You've always lived here? That's terrific! I didn't know we had house elves at Crossfields," Tommy said. "Do you know, they call me Tommyknocker."

"Young master is named for the mining elves. Tomkin has cousins who work down the mines. It's much harder, sir. Tomkin prefers the Great House. The Edmondes are a good family."

"Has it always been Edmondes here? Were there ever any other families?" Tommy said. He followed Tomkin along as the little elf, who resembled the old street cleaners Tommy used to see in Cardiff and London, dusted away cobwebs and shooed spiders into the dark.

"It has always been Edmondes here, sir. Very noble family, they are, and good to their elves as we are good to them," Tomkin said.

Tommy bit his lip before his next question.

"There hasn't ever been a Gaunt here, has there?"

Tomkin shifted on his feet. He had a tiny dustbin and broom, which he put aside. He fixed Tommy with his large brown eyes and said, as if testing Tommy,

"Young master should know we elves are bound to keep a family's secrets. The master is young yet to be asking about Gaunts."

Tommy crossed his arms as mum did when she was angry with him.

"Now, see here! I've just turned twelve and I think that's old enough to be asking about things related to me," he said.

Tomkin gave a very small shudder before fixing Tommy again in his gaze.

"On New Years Eve, twelve years ago, Lady Edmondes went up to London. Dr. Maldonado worked in London, so his lady wife went to meet him for the New Year. But, you see, Lady Edmondes wasn't pregnant when she left. When she went to London, there was no baby. When they came back in March, there was a baby. Baby Thomas. Baby you, young master."

Tommy felt the world drop out from beneath him. His stomach seemed to float in a vast sea of confusion and fear, his heart beating a tattoo in his chest.

"What? What do you mean, mum wasn't pregnant? She had to be. Are you saying they went to London to fetch me?" The rest of Tommy's questions dried up in his throat. Tomkin nodded, slowly.

"Tomkin heard the Lady Gwendolyn on the telephone with the doctor. He said the orphanage had to wait, check papers."

"An orphanage? Papers? So that means…I'm adopted…" Tommy breathed this last word. Tomkin nodded and glanced at his dustbin again.

"Young master knows the truth now, and Tomkin has much work to be doing—"

"—Yes, fine. I'm going upstairs."

Tommy stomped back up the cellar stair, slammed the tin of cake on the dining room table and ran the rest of the way, until he was up in the room he always stayed in at Crossfields. He slammed his door just as mum called,

"Tommy, is that you, darling? What's all that racket?"

"I want to be left alone!" Tommy shouted at the closed door. Then he threw himself on his bed and tried to stop the world from shaking him to bits.

Once Tommy'd succeeded in getting his shivers under control, he rolled himself up in his blanket. The door opened then.

"Gatito?"

"Go away, papa. I said I want to be alone!"

Papa, of course, didn't leave. Tommy felt him sit down beside Tommy in his blanket cocoon.

"Gatito? What's wrong?"

Tommy stuck his head alone out of the blankets to bellow,

"Don't call me that! You know I'm not your gatito! You know I'm not really your son! You knew the whole time. When were you going to tell me?"

Papa had turned a sickly whey-yellow. After the silence stopped ringing with the ugly words, papa put a hand on Tommy's shoulder.

"Tommy, how did you find out?"

"It doesn't matter, does it? You were never going to tell me, were you? You were just going to lie to me my whole life!"

Papa looked as though each word struck a terrible blow. Tommy swallowed hard and at last the tears came.

"It doesn't matter, gatito. What matters is we wanted you enough to make you ours. We…you were so small, gatito. I couldn't leave you in an orphanage. I knew you'd die if you were left there."

Tommy brought his sniffles under control and let papa draw him into a stiff hug.

"What do you mean? You went and picked me specially?"

Papa kissed his forehead, something he hadn't done since Tommy'd been very small.

"Gatito, mijito. I was doing my residency at Great Ormond street. I got an emergency call, a young girl about to deliver. She'd been left in the cold, the poor thing, probably a domestic who'd…she was in a bad way. She died before we could save her, and I did everything in my power to save you. I wasn't going to turn you over to the orphanage, have you grow up to be poor and neglected like that girl. Your mother and I wanted you so much, gatito."

Tommy pressed his face against his papa's chest and let the tears pour out of him. He could feel papa's sobs rather than hear them.

* * *

><p>That night, mum and papa sat with Tommy for a long time, not always talking. Mostly they took turns holding his hands. Tommy would return on January second and it would be months before he'd see them again.<p>

"Gatito you will be so strong," papa said. Mum had long ago stopped pretending not to cry.

"Really, Tommyknocker, you've been such a joy for us. And now that you're especially talented," mum then hiccoughed out a giggle, "It's so lucky you picked us. Or we picked you."

"We picked each other," Tommy said. That got mum sniffling so hard she hid her face for a moment.

"To think, you were such a tiny baby, gatito. When you were born, I cleaned the blood from your eyes and mouth and you made no noise, not a sound at all. Just like a baby cat. And now look at you. You're going to be a great wizard, like your Gandalf," papa said.

Tommy sniffled now too, as mum cuddled him and papa held his hand. He didn't get to sleep until late. The train to Paddington and to King's Cross was a miserable blur of confusion and exhaustion. Tommy kept checking his return ticket to Hogwarts. It still had his full name on it: Thomas Aquino Moore Davies-Maldonado. He wondered if he'd have to tell the school officials.

"Better not, Tommyknocker. This is something private, and no one's business but yours," mum said as she kissed him goodbye. Papa nodded.

"Gatito, you are ours completely, and whatever else happens, don't forget that we want you and love you."

"Yes papa," Tommy said, hugging his papa next.

He met Alfie on the train. Alfie was pink from the cold and bouncing around worse than ever.

"Had a terrific Christmas! I got dragonhide boots and a mokeskin satchel! And you?" Alfie shouted. Tommy winced. They shared a compartment with a sullen Walburga, who shoved them both into the corridor.

"Shut it, Alfie, you're giving me a headache," she hissed.

In the corridor, Alfie bounced on his dragonhide-clad heels.

"Well? What did you get?" he said. Tommy shifted with the rocking train. He could tell Alfie, of course. He'd asked Alfie for help in the first place.

"Er, just muggle things. My parents wouldn't want to buy dragonhide. Where do they keep all the dragons?" Tommy said. He'd yet to grasp the amount of magical species in the world. Alfie giggled. His dimples winked just like Alec's.

"There are dragons in Wales, you know, I'm surprised you never saw one! I expect they farm them."

Tommy would put this tidbit in his very first letter home.

"I haven't. What happens to people who do?"

They started for the next empty compartment.

"The Ministry has to track them down. Sometimes they put the dragon down. And of course they have to modify memories," Alfie said.

"That's terrible. Isn't it dangerous for people to forget?" Tommy said. Alfie shrugged and peered into the corridor for the lunch witch.

"It'd be worse for the muggles if they knew," he said. Then he squealed as the distant lunch trolley jingled.

While Alfie ordered food from the lunch trolley, Tommy pondered. He had no appetite for the sweets. It was well on into the afternoon before Tommy spoke at all. Alfie had fallen asleep after eating an entire box of cauldron cakes.

"You should get up. We'll be at Hogwarts soon, I can see the edge of the lake," Tommy whispered, prodding at Alfie gently. Alfie yawned himself awake.

"Mmm, I feel like that muggle princess who slept for a hundred years," Alfie said. Tommy shrugged.

"Yes but who's going to kiss you awake?" he said.

Alfie made a pretend pucker and swooned over the seat.

"You said Gaunt was a family name, right? One of your grandmama's?" Tommy asked, ignoring Alfie's play-acting. Eventually Alf came out of his swoon and stood up. Alfie put his wizard's hat on at a jaunty angle, the way Alec wore his fedora.

"I did. She died in 1781, so it was a while back."

"Do you know where I can look up people with the same last name?" Tommy said. He tried imitating Alfie with his hat, but felt foolish.

"I don't think so. There's books on the subject, but I really haven't been well up on them. Why?"

Tommy wanted so badly to tell Alfie, but Alfie would likely not understand the need for secrecy.

"If I tell you, you'll promise not to tell anyone else. It's private and personal." Tommy allowed Alfie a chance to nod and compose himself. Alfie did an admirable job of looking serious and reliable. "I found out…on my birthday, I found out I'm adopted."

Alfie didn't react as Tommy expected, naturally. Alfie, in fact, wriggled with delight.

"Adopted? You're a foundling, Tommy! You were probably abandoned as a baby by a mad warlock, and the muggles took you in to protect you! Of course, now we'll need to find out who your proper wizarding parents are and—"

"— That's the thing, Alfie. My mother, my birth mother, she died. All I know is her family name was Gaunt, same as your grandmama's. We could be cousins…" Tommy trailed off as Walburga banged on their compartment door.

"Hurry it up, you ninnies! We're here!" she said.

And of course, the train banged and bumped to a halt, sending Alfie into Tommy's lap. Alfie giggled as he reached for his fallen hat, while Tommy tried not to smile. They grabbed their travel bags and hurried to catch up to the rest.

It wasn't until they were back in the common room, sharing a rug, that Alfie whispered,

"I say, we could be _kissing_ cousins!"

Tommy pushed Alfie's pucker away and buried himself in _The Hobbit_. It was hard not to blush when he thought of Alfie's dimples.

* * *

><p>Out of all their professors, Tommy liked Slughorn the best. He never lost his temper with them, unlike mad Professor Kettleburn, and he wasn't boring, unlike the ghost of Professor Binns.<p>

The one downside to getting Professor Slughorn's notice was Tommy had to endure at least one story about Old Sluggy's star pupils every class. He was very fond of Abraxus Malfoy, often telling the younger students to look to Malfoy and the girl prefect, Rodmilla Travers, as role models

Tommy also enjoyed Slughorn's lessons a great deal more than some of his other subjects. At least in Potions, he could do magic. In Transfiguration and Charms, they had to learn magical theory for weeks before attempting a new spell. Potions required a great deal more concentration, but Tommy had years of practice with his toy chemistry set and watching papa.

Professor Slughorn was quick to note this aptitude, so when Tommy lingered after Potions one Friday, Professor Slughorn gave him a welcoming smile.

"Well, Davies-Maldonado! Is this a question about the homework? Usually you're very keen," Sluggy said. Tommy shrugged and shuffled a moment.

"Sir, I have to do some personal research and I was wondering if you'd know where to start?"

Slughorn, seated behind his finely carved desk, stood up and spread his hands.

"A bit of extracurricular studies? You're more than welcome to use the labs, Davies, provided someone supervises you."

Tommy looked around at the potions lab, wondering if there was a potion to unearth family secrets. He'd have to tread very carefully but he knew Slughorn would be intrigued enough to help.

"Well, it's more personal than that. I want to know if there is a way to find out about magical ancestors. If maybe I have a magical ancestor where my abilities came from," he said, doing his best not to sound too keen.

Slughorn's smile resembled papa's, as though he'd been asked this question by hundreds of other lonely, isolated muggle-borns. He put a hand on Tommy's shoulder and gently led him back to the classroom door.

"Davies, you understand, even if there was a way to trace every magical ancestor, the chances of finding out you're related to Merlin, for example—"

"—but I'm not asking about Merlin, sir," Tommy added, trying to appear respectful even if he'd interrupted. "I'm asking about Gaunts. The Sorting Hat told me I was a Gaunt."

Although Slughorn had been about to push Tommy into the corridor, he hesitated and covered by drumming the doorjamb.

"Gaunt, you say? Well, my dear boy, I'll have a quick look in _Nature's Nobility_ for you, maybe check your enrollment. And don't worry, Davies, I'll keep mum on this," Slughorn said, tweaking his nose, his moustaches twitching.

"Yes sir. Thank you. I know it's an odd request, but it's about me and I didn't know who the Gaunts were," Tommy said.

Professor Slughorn waved him off. Tommy found Alfie in the library, finishing off their homework. Tommy'd finished his early in order to get time to investigate the Gaunts.

"Is there a copy of _Nature's Nobility_ in the library?" Tommy asked as he sat. Alfie bit his quill in frustration before replying.

"Must be. We're in it, I can show you our entry."

"I'm not looking for your family, you know that," Tommy said. He looked around to make sure they weren't overheard. He spotted the ghost of a woman gliding through the bookcases, lost in a volume. "Is it proper to ask ghosts questions?"

"Course it is, as long as you aren't rude," Alfie muttered. Tommy left him to it and followed the ghostly lady.

Unfortunately, she disappeared through a wall and Tommy couldn't follow. He stopped to check the titles of the books in the section labelled: History — Magical-Muggle Relations. Then he tried under genealogy and again came up empty handed. At this rate he'd have to wait the whole weekend, and the thought rankled.

"Alfie, you said we could use floo powder to talk to my parents. Can we get some?" Tommy kept his voice low but excitement made that difficult. Alfie wrinkled his nose.

"You're wanting me to help you steal floo powder?" Alfie continued to wrinkle his face in thought while Tommy bit his fist and waited. At last, Alfie said, "Alright. If it's for you, I'll do it. You owe me those chocolate cauldrons and more!"

"Do you think some of the teachers have it?" Tommy whispered. Alfie nodded and glanced over his shoulder.

"I'm sure of it. If Slughorn can't find anything for you, we'll have to use the floo powder to ask your parents, start from scratch."

"Let's hope Slughorn finds something concrete," Tommy said.

Slughorn did much better than something concrete. After their Potions class the following week, Slughorn took Tommy aside under the pretext of discussing his current project.

"You know, even at your age a bit of independent study can yield excellent results. Davies, you're showing a real knack for the subject," Slughorn said.

Tommy flushed with pleasure at this. He'd received top marks for his wart-curing ointment. However, this couldn't be the only reason old Sluggy had for stopping him. They were supposed to be at lunch, and Slughorn enjoyed desserts almost as much as Alfie.

"Thank you, sir. My Uncle Stig is a veterinarian. I've seen him make up lotions for animals, I've helped too," Tommy said.

Slughorn gave him the baffled smile wizards always did when Tommy mentioned his muggle achievements. He'd tried to explain wireless transmissions to the Charms Master and was late for Herbology as a result.

"Well, is this the uncle on your Davies side, or Maldonado side?" Slughorn said. Tommy shrugged and waited, since Slughorn had the look of a man ready to discuss important secrets. "Or perhaps he's that distant Gaunt relative?"

Tommy forced his face to relax; he'd been about to smile.

"Sir, you did find something, didn't you?"

Slughorn waved his hands with a showman's flourish.

"There were two entries for the Gaunt line, a main branch descending from the Peverell-Slytherin dynasty, and an auxiliary branch that's extant. Now, the main family line has all but died out, so I wasn't entirely certain how to proceed. I did have a quick look at your enrollment, Davies, and they listed your full name. Rather a remarkable one, even among wizards. Thomas Marvolo Riddle Aquino Moore Davies-Maldonado. Extraordinary."

Tommy shifted, his stomach in knots. He'd never known his middle name had been so long. Did his parents know that when they adopted him? Had his real mother named him?

"Sir, none of those names are Gaunt," Tommy said, too uneasy to look at Slughorn now, although he sensed one more secret in the offing.

"Well-well, Davies, you'll find one name is. Marvolo Gaunt was a former student here at Hogwarts, several years my senior, but I do remember him. You don't resemble him, but the name is unique, as is the House of Gaunt. I imagine, Davies, that one of Marvolo's children had a…er…well, I haven't kept in touch with Marvolo. He wasn't what you'd call a colleague of mine."

Tommy couldn't keep the squirming out of his stomach. Slughorn spoke politely, but it was clear this Marvolo wasn't the kind of person he associated with, and by extension Tommy shouldn't either.

Tommy sighed.

"Sir, is it possible Marvolo is still alive? Maybe I could write to him?"

Slughorn shook his head and began escorting Tommy out once more.

"I wouldn't know where to begin looking for old Marvolo Gaunt, Davies. Although this is clearly a delicate subject, it might be time for you to ask your muggle parents."

Once the door closed behind him, Tommy set his teeth. He'd get that floo powder somehow.


	5. Spring Term 1939

"I need floo powder. I need to talk to my parents," Tommy whispered to Alfie over their dinner. He'd kept Marvolo Gaunt out of the conversation, saying only that Sluggy had looked through the enrollment files.

"Well, I suppose we could try sneaking into Hogsmeade," Alfie whispered back. The prospect of sneaking into the village below the castle brought a mischievous glint to Alfie's eye.

"Do you think there's a way?" Tommy whispered.

"There must be! I wouldn't want to rely on an older student, they'd keep those goods to themselves. We'll just have to look around on our own."

"Or we could ask a ghost," Tommy said. The Bloody Baron glided along between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables, but few students were brave enough to watch him. Tommy hadn't managed to screw up his courage to ask what horrid event had earned the Baron his nickname.

"What is it with you and ghosts? They're just people who're a bit dead. They're not more magical or smarter," Alfie said with a groan. Tommy rolled his eyes.

"I know that! But if they're dead, they'd have been around to know things about the school that we've forgotten," Tommy said. Alfie blinked.

"I can't believe I forgot that," Alfie whispered, his plump cheeks pink as apples.

After supper, Tommy lingered in the common room as people went to bed. He'd had enough practice looking inconspicuous when avoiding Grandmother and her music lessons. Once the common room had emptied at midnight, Tommy snuck out into the dark, dank dungeons.

The school at night seemed like the dark side of the moon. Classrooms that he was used to in daylight were alien landscapes full of potential dangers. He ignited his wand tip and used it to cover the dungeons. He knew the Slytherin common room was under the lake, but it was possible that other sections might be under land.

Tommy'd read about secret passages. If he could learn the myriad bizarre and hidden passages at Hogwarts, he could find a way out. He pulled on torch brackets and tapped for hollow points in the wall. He tried "open sesame" at every alcove and archway.

Nothing.

His watch read two in the morning when he met Alfie in the corridor before the common room.

"You've been gone ages! You still haven't found anything?" Alfie hissed, his voice climbing with impatience.

"Shh! I'm being methodical!"

"Oh, we'd have better luck finding the Chamber of Secrets! Oh brother, let's just ask Old Sluggy for floo powder in the morning," Alfie said.

He flounced back to bed, Tommy following with a reluctant sigh.

* * *

><p>Slughorn started inviting Tommy around for tea with the seniors after his questioning. Tommy wanted to chalk it up to his stellar Potions grades, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Slughorn viewed him as a mystery worth unravelling.<p>

"I've heard from your other teachers that you are an exceptionally bright boy, Davies," Slughorn said on the last day of classes before Easter break.

"Thank you, sir. I'm sure my parents will be pleased when they come for the open house…" Tommy said, trailing off when Slughorn gave him a pitying smile.

"My dear Davies, it is a shame, but we can't allow any muggles on the property. Not even parents, not without exceptional circumstances. I'm afraid all of our glowing recommendations will have to come at a slight remove." He then patted down his moustaches.

"Well," Tommy considered things before saying, with a small smile, "mum likes to get owl post. I've been keeping them up to date, but even magical owls aren't as fast as a telephone."

Slughorn smiled too, waving the word away.

"You'll get used to it. If there were any pressing reason to reach your parents, we'd always use—"

"—Floo powder! Er, sir," Tommy scuffed his shoes gently as he spoke. Old Sluggy laughed at him the way Liz or mum did.

"Oh ho! Well, Davies, I hope you haven't been trying to make any! It's a well-guarded secret and even exceptional brewer that you are, I have to remind you that brewing contraband is illegal."

Tommy knew Slughorn had to tell him things like that. He had a feeling Slughorn might help him, if Tommy weren't an untried first year.

"Sir, could students borrow floo powder?" he asked.

Slughorn sighed theatrically and tucked his thumbs into his straining vest.

"I'm afraid teachers can't loan things like floo powder to every student. Goodness knows not everyone's motives would be as innocent as yours, Tom."

Tommy left empty-handed but determined. When he found Alfie (who'd been heckling Walburga and their cousin Lucretia), he sat him down in the common room to strategize.

"Slughorn might lend me floo powder if I had something to bribe him with."

"You could always try chocolate cauldrons," Alfie said. He had a giant box of his own, sent from home after Alfie shamelessly begged for them.

"You can't bribe a teacher with chocolate," Tommy said. Abraxus Malfoy passed by just then and stopped when he heard the mention of bribery.

"You two have been awfully quiet lately. Last semester you were kicking up larks, Black. Haven't decided to aim for bigger crimes, have you?" he asked, casually tapping his prefect's badge.

"Oh push off, it's not criminal to sit in our own common room. You're coming over like a troll," Alfie said. Malfoy smirked.

"I could deduct points for that, Black. But since Davies is a remarkably good student for a muggle-born, I'll let it slide. Perhaps you'll think twice about being smart to a prefect if we take five points off Slytherin?"

Tommy put a hand on Alfie before he could stand up and flounce off.

"Maybe you'd know, being a prefect…is there a student supply of floo powder? So I could floo home?" Tommy said, doing his best to be deferential.

"Missing your muggle mummy?" Malfoy said, his smirk wider now.

Tommy stood up and squared his shoulders.

"If you think that's funny, I expect you've never been without your parents. I want to see mine, but they like me. Maybe it's different for wizards," he said. Malfoy's eyes widened, but he didn't take out his wand.

"Mind yourself, Davies," Malfoy snarled, "and that's another five points for cheek."

"You didn't answer the question," Tommy said, in as calm a voice as he could manage.

Malfoy looked ready to hex him. It was exactly like staring down an angry dog. Tommy held his gaze even though Malfoy was as tall as papa. He could easily read all of Malfoy's contempt, written deeply into his mind and manner. Under that, fragile and almost invisible, a little worm of fear.

Before Tommy could make sense of this, Malfoy broke eye contact and sniffed.

"If you want to butter up Ol' Sluggy, the crystallized pineapple works best. And I'll let your cheek slide for now, Davies, but you'll check that attitude. For a muggle-born, you're far too uppity."

Tommy kept quiet, in case Malfoy wanted to deduct more points. Malfoy stalked away, rejoining his group of haughty sixth years. Alfie tapped Tommy on the shoulder.

"It might be easier to make the damn stuff ourselves," he said, making faces at Malfoy's back. "If we don't get hexed by the seniors first."

"Alfie, can you get your parents to send you crystalized pineapple? Malfoy says its Sluggy's favourite," Tommy said, turning round. Alfie looked skeptical, once he'd slurped his tongue back in.

"Do you actually believe him? He's got no reason to help you."

"I just do," Tommy replied. "Call it intuition."

Alfie sensed he couldn't raise any more arguments. They finished their homework, save one Potions question Tommy deliberately left blank.

He'd have a tailor-made excuse to visit Slughorn during the Easter break.

* * *

><p>"Sir, is it alright if I ask you about our essay?" Tommy said, having approached Slughorn over lunch. Slughorn patted his mouth dry on a napkin and fixed Tommy with an appraising stare.<p>

"I know I've told you you're very keen, Davies, but it's holidays. I'm impressed a boy your age would be working when he could be out in the grounds…" Slughorn seemed to sense Tommy's impatience and trailed off with a smile.

"Actually, professor, it's about that other research I was doing," Tommy dropped his voice just a moment, so Slughorn would know that the Gaunt question remained unanswered.

"Well, Davies, short of looking for first-hand accounts, I'm afraid you're on your own," Slughorn said.

Beside him, Professor Dumbledore turned away from his roast chicken. Dumbledore, like all Tommy's teachers, found his work satisfactory. What Dumbledore didn't appreciate was what he termed Tommy's "relentless curiosity".

"Already working on extra-curricular work, Davies? I've never seen a first year dive into homework outside the classroom," Dumbledore said. His expression was mild, but Tommy sensed his impatience. Slughorn 'tut-tutted' him at once.

"Albus! Davies is a bright lad. It's in our calling to encourage natural curiosity, even if it means answering a few homework questions over Saturday tea," Slughorn said. He slipped Tommy the barest of winks, and Tommy nodded.

"Thank you, sir. I wanted to finish my potions essay before Easter, so I could have a proper holiday."

"Well, why don't you come 'round my office for tea, Davies! We won't put Albus off his meal any longer," Slughorn said, tipping another wink.

Dumbledore didn't look put off, but he returned to his dinner. Tommy winked back at Slughorn before rejoining Alfie.

Saturday afternoon, after posting his weekly letter home, Tommy and Alfie together went to Slughorn's office. Alfie made himself look "smart" by stealing Walburga's hair lotion. The cloying perfume filled the whole corridor.

"Why on earth?" Tommy said, for what felt like the hundredth time.

"You'll see. They'll all be meeting now, of course," Alfie said.

Tommy rolled his eyes and knocked on the door. He could make out voices beyond it. Evidently Slughorn had other guests for tea. His unspoken question went answered immediately when the door opened and one of the fifth years looked down at them.

"It's just a pair of first years, professor," he said. "Shall I show them in?" he added, sounding reluctant to do so. From beyond, where Tommy could smell whiffs of tea and coffee and freshly-made scones, Slughorn called,

"Let them in, Greengrass, I've been expecting young Davies here."

Tommy did his best not to flinch as he stepped into the close, fragrant room. Malfoy and his lot were here, all of them holding tea cups or biscuits. Slughorn sat before the fire with a magnificent tea spread beside him.

"Sir," Tommy said, fussing with the box of crystalized pineapple. Malfoy watched him, his face expressionless. It was only his hands that gave him away: they both rested over his wand. "I don't mean to intrude, sir, but you did suggest I stop by. I, er, brought something for tea."

Tommy placed the candy box on one of Slughorn's many side tables. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement. A few of the older boys glanced at the box, then Tommy, then Malfoy, before looking to Slughorn for his final verdict.

"Well! Crystalized pineapple is a bit sweet for tea, Davies!"

Tommy didn't flush, but a few of the older boys smirked.

"I thought you'd appreciate it, sir," Tommy said. Malfoy nodded ever so slightly. Slughorn chuckled and set the box reverently aside.

"You're lucky this is my favourite! Please, Davies, you and Black may have a seat. These fine fellows here will be passing the torch to you youngsters soon," Slughorn said, waving genially over the assembled senior boys.

Malfoy continued to look inscrutable as Alfie immediately pulled up a seat and helped himself to cream puffs. Tommy took his seat, but no food.

Slughorn and the older boys resumed their discussion, which appeared to follow the political and military career of Gellert Grindelwald.

"They're saying he's found the wretched thing, you know?" Greengrass said as he rejoined his peers. He seemed to direct this at Malfoy, who scoffed.

"It's an empty boast. He's trying to prevent people from challenging him to an honour duel," Malfoy said.

Tommy met Alfie's eye and they both settled back to watch the fireworks. Slughorn hadn't stepped in, but seemed just as keen as the rest of his audience.

"He'd look a fool if it was an empty boast. And it would be easily disproved," Greengrass said, turning red in the face. Malfoy and a few others shrugged.

"And if he had it? Better a proper wizard had it than a squib or muggle," Malfoy said.

"Had what?" Tommy mouthed at Alfie. Alfie shrugged. A senior boy named Flint leaned down, whispering,

"The Elder Wand. People have been saying Grindelwald has defeated and killed everyone who's challenged him to a direct duel. He's also been cleaning up the squibs in Ruritania. They've lost the right to vote and to sit in their National Assembly."

"He sounds like Hitler," Tommy said. "Nazi atrocities" came back to him, like a bad smell or an unsettling noise heard in the dark and near-forgotten.

Malfoy and a few others actually laughed at this.

"Oh let the muggles sort out their own problems. What matters is keeping Grindelwald from attacking proper wizards and breaking the Statute," Malfoy said. Tommy bristled. He had a feeling Malfoy expected a reply to this.

"My parents are muggles! And anyway, why should we let anyone kick out squibs? Why would anyone bother them?" Tommy said. He fixed Malfoy with a glare, but was also aware of Alfie shaking his head and Slughorn leaning forward, mouth open.

"You'd want a squib, a person with no magic, having the same rights as a wizard?" Malfoy sneered.

"They aren't a different species," Tommy said, hating the writhing worm of fear behind Malfoy's venom. "They're just as human as we are!"

He straightened up as much as he could, even when some of the senior boys made noises of disgust. Malfoy shook his head, half in pity and half in disbelief.

"You muggle-borns are so soft. What good is a dirty squib who can't do magic to wizards?" he said.

"Now, now, Malfoy, the boy makes a valid point. We're all still human," Slughorn said, intervening at last.

"Sir, what it boils down to is that Grindelwald, like Hitler, is not our problem. If he ever should attack the British Isles, it would be a different case. As it is, let him have his backwater, I say," Malfoy said, with his best impression of a haughty shrug.

Tommy saw right through this: Malfoy's clenched fist and tight jaw were dead giveaways.

"Davies, I think we'll have to discuss your research plans another time," Slughorn said, gently shooing him and Alfie out.

In the corridor, Tommy finally let out a long breath. Alfie smacked his shoulder.

"You complete troll! What did you say that for? We know you're not muggle-born! Slughorn knows! Who cares what Grindelwald does?"

"Hitler's been doing the same thing to Jews. He had his soldiers destroy their businesses and homes. Just for being Jewish," Tommy said. Alfie rolled his eyes and dragged Tommy back to the common room.

"Malfoy's right, Hitler and the Jews aren't wizard problems!"

That evening, Malfoy caught up to them while Tommy and Alfie did their homework. He had a book tucked under his arm, which he passed to Tommy with a sneer.

"Compliments of Old Sluggy, for a rousing debate. And you had best mind your attitude. Ignorance can't protect the likes of you forever, Davies," he said. He stroked his wand once, but didn't draw it in the crowded common room.

After he'd walked away, Alfie sidled closer.

"He'd look a fool if he jinxed a first year. There's no honour in it," Alfie said. Tommy rolled his eyes this time.

"There's no honour in Slytherin either, you're thinking of Gryffindor."

Alfie squealed and kicked him under the table. Tommy let him tantrum, he'd already cracked open the book. _Nature's Nobility, A Wizarding Genealogy._

"Phwoar. Doesn't look like light reading, does it?" Alfie said, distracted from his fit.

Many of the pages were bookmarked. Tommy left these untouched, until he spotted one with his name on it. He tugged at it and the book fell open to a page about the family Peverell.

"Extinct in the male line," Tommy murmured. Alfie had been reading over his shoulder and they spotted it at the same time: "Cadmus Peverell's family married into the Slytherin dynasty. Both the Peverell and Slytherin line survive today in the House of Gaunt."

"Alfie…this makes me a…proper wizard," Tommy said. The air vanished from his lungs. All he heard was a tiny ringing in his ears. Things toppled into place even though they landed askew.

"My papa said my birth mother was a young girl. Maybe one of these Gaunts put a spell on her and…and…" the thought was too horrid to complete. Alfie was pale and still.

"We could check the class lists. Do you think your papa would remember her first name?" he said.

"My real mother," Tommy said. The words tasted funny, almost like lying. He still had the bookmark in his hand, and when he turned it over he realised it was an envelope. "Here, Slughorn actually sent me —" Tommy slit the envelope open to discover a gritty substance reminding him vaguely of gunpowder. "—Floo powder!"

"He wants to know if you're really adopted. Because, if you are, this makes us kissing cousins _and_ you're one of the Peverells. I've heard stories about them, they were practically royalty. Legendary. You get the idea."

Tommy winced. He certainly did.

"We'll have to wait till the common room empties. Then I'm asking my parents, and I'm not letting up until I get a proper answer."

Alfie's usual cheeky grin returned with more wattage than usual.

"I want to floo them too! You won't know how it's done, I'll just go ahead and make sure it's alright."

"No thank you, Alf. It'll be fine," Tommy said.

"Huh, you don't know if they've put anti-floo charms on the fireplaces," Alfie retorted.

They waited on tenterhooks. With the holidays, all the sixth and seventh years had a whole week to kick up larks. The common room didn't empty properly until a quarter to one, and by this time Tommy had reservations.

"What if my parents are asleep?" he asked.

"You'll wake them up. Trust me. It'll work," Alfie said. His grin was less than reassuring.

"What happens if they don't?"

"Shut up and do it, or I will for you!"

They crawled onto the hearth rug and stared at the dying fire.

"How do I do this?" Tommy said, clutching the envelope until the paper felt slick with his sweat.

"You chuck it in the fire and say your home address and the fireplace you're looking for. It'll be alright, everyone keeps a fire," Alfie said.

Tommy pictured his parents' bedroom. They usually did have a fire on cold spring nights. Tommy took an extra deep breath before he tossed the floo powder into the fire. With a small explosion, the flames turned green.

"Just say my address and—"

"— And then stick your head in," Alfie said, grinning from ear to ear.

Feeling apprehensive, Tommy did as instructed. The flames whirled and whooshed around him before resolving into his parents' bedroom. He heard their voices, murmuring from the bed, and swallowed his nerves.

"Um, mum? Papa?" Tommy said, hoarse. The murmuring paused. "Mum?" Tommy tried once more.

"Tommy!" Mum peered over the edge of the bed and yelped. "Tommy! Your head! In the fire!"

"Gatito!" Papa's head joined mum's. They looked as ridiculous as Tommy felt.

"Does it hurt? My goodness you gave us a turn, Tommyknocker!" Mum slid off the bed, in her big fluffy robe and socks. Papa followed with a quilt. They both grinned at the same time as Tommy felt a lump choking in his throat.

"Mum! Papa! This really is better than a telephone!"

"Sweetheart, don't cry, you'll be home for the summer. That's only two months away," mum said, reaching out to touch Tommy's cheek. She brushed a tear away.

"There isn't anything wrong, is there, gatito?" papa said.

Tommy shook his head, but the flames whirling gently in the corner of his eyes made him nauseous again.

"No. Yes! Papa! I wanted to," Tommy paused to gulp fresh air and courage. Mum continued stroking the tears off his face. "Papa, I heard something about my…real family. They were wizarding folk. My real mother and father were wizards." Tommy squeezed his eyes shut against his parents' disappointment.

His mother's hand never left his face. He felt her shivers through her fingertips. She was crying and doing her best to hide it.

"I'm sorry," Tommy whispered.

"No, darling, don't be. It's only natural to be curious," mum said. Papa added,

"We expected you'd have questions, gatito. We'll do our best."

Tommy opened his eyes slowly. His knees, somewhere in the swirling distant fire, felt stiff. He shifted a little but otherwise ignored the pain.

"Papa, do you remember the name of the girl who…my mother?"

Papa took mum's other hand, but mum either didn't notice or didn't need the comfort from him.

"I don't, gatito. She only gave us your name. Thomas Marvolo Riddle. We changed it after we adopted you."

Tommy shifted around, his back stiff too. So, he wasn't quite a Gaunt, but there was a connection to Marvolo somehow. He'd have to ask Slughorn if Marvolo Gaunt had daughters.

"Tommy, sweetheart, is there anything that you want to tell us? We'll answer your questions, darling, but if there's something we ought to know," mum said, pausing in encouragement.

What would happen if he reached through the fire for her? Would he be allowed to, or would the magic stop him?

"Mum, papa, the sorting hat called me a Gaunt, and my professor, my Head of House, he told me there was a student named Marvolo Gaunt. So I must be related to him somehow," Tommy said.

Papa frowned.

"Gatito, what does it matter who you're related to? You're still our son."

Tommy appreciated this truth more than ever, but there had to be some way to explain what being muggle-born meant in Slytherin.

"I know, papa, and I want to be your son too." Mum sniffed hard at that, but Tommy continued as best he could without also crying. "But the other boys here are all pure-bloods, they're all from wizarding families. Even Alfie's family. And now that I know I'm really adopted, I'd fit in better. The Gaunts are a very old family, and very magical."

"Tommy, sweetheart, you'd be no less magical if you'd never found out," mum said. Tommy tried smiling at her, but his smiles never worked when she started crying.

"I know, mum. I really want to be your son, really and truly! And I want to come home for the summer. But…but I can't just forget anymore. I'm not a baby now."

Papa and mum both laughed at that, the quiet kind of laugh masking more tears.

"Gatito, it is late and you'll be in trouble if you stay here. Go to bed. We'll have plenty of time over the summer. We'll go to the seaside and to Crossfields and you'll have a real holiday," papa said.

Tommy nodded and smiled while mum pressed a damp kiss to his forehead. She pulled back, her nose wrinkled.

"It's so strange seeing your head in the fire, Tommyknocker, but it makes a sort of sense. You're really quite magical," she said.

It was her way of pretending she wouldn't cry. Papa didn't bother with that pretense. He kissed Tommy and tears landed on Tommy's forehead.

"Mijito gatito," was all papa said.

Tommy let himself fall backward, through the swirling emerald cloud. He fell into Alfie's lap and stayed there for a long time, crying.


	6. Summer Break and Sept 1939

**AN: Titular cave, from Titular Essay, Living Waters, on RedHen's site. Link through my author page.**

**Thanks RedHen, for giving this a name so I wouldn't resort to drastic, fee-fee Wiccan measures.**

* * *

><p>Crossfields being nowhere near a beach, Grandmother had them all remove to what she called a "health resort" in Somerset. It wasn't as nice as the places they'd visited when Tommy'd been little, before the Depression. Now, with all the talk of war, mum and papa seemed reluctant to travel to France and Italy.<p>

It amazed Tommy to see how closed-off the magical world was from the mundane. All the muggle newspapers now spoke of nothing else except Hitler and his Nazis, or the situation in Russia, or Italy or Spain.

Nor did the adults pretend there wouldn't be war. Grandmother often argued with papa about his duty. Tommy, playing by himself in the sand, overheard once such argument.

"They'll want you to return to the front, Aneirin! Haven't you given them enough? Do you want Tommy to grow up fatherless, like the Montgomery boys? You yourself have often said they didn't deserve to lose their father!"

Tommy stopped tinkering with the shells he'd accumulated and turned around. He'd never heard anyone living, except maybe Alec, talk about the dead Montgomery.

Like in any proper ghost story, Mr. Montgomery's ghost was unhappy and vengeful. Tommy'd managed to send him away by promising to catch Lord Fitzgerald's killer. He hadn't seen the ghost since, except in nightmares.

"Aunt Glynys, I cannot ignore my duty as a doctor any more than I can ignore Tommy. They will need doctors if there is a war, seasoned doctors. If you and Gwen wish to join the nursing corps again you're more than welcome to. But I will not ignore my duty to my country," papa said.

Papa, who never ever spoke of the Great War, who hated even when chickens were slaughtered for supper, going off to war?

"No! You can't!"

Tommy managed to land at papa's feet by leaping and rolling, landing before the words had left his mouth.

"Gatito, if I don't go, who will save the men?" papa said, his expression mild except for the darkness the Great War left there, folded into the wrinkles around his eyes.

"Somebody else! If you wait until I'm old enough, I'll go instead!"

"Gatito, that is enough," papa said. He never had to raise his voice. Tommy kicked at the sand in frustration.

"If you go, I'll get you back myself! You know I will," Tommy said.

Papa stood up and placed a hand on Tommy's shoulder. All he had to do was pull his eyebrows into a frown and the rest fell into place: he stood straight like the officer he'd been, he looked as stern as any battlefield doctor, and worst of all was that dark place behind his eyes, the place where the men he hadn't saved looked back.

"Thomas, we do what we must," papa said.

At least he couldn't send Tommy to his room at the resort. Tommy turned on heel and ran off. He ran up the path away from the beach, up the sandy bluffs and inland. He had to stop after the stitch in his side became too painful to bear. The moment he sat down in the ditch, the tears burst forth.

"It's! Not! Fair!"

Tommy felt better after this outburst. He fell back against a tuft of grass, letting the tears dry in the sunshine. Something slithered, cool and soothing, into his hand. He'd been expecting this. Snakes had a knack for finding him.

"At least you're here," Tommy told it. The snake wavered gently in his hands as he held it.

"You're here, you're here!" It said. Tommy dropped it at once. The snake disappeared into the grasses, whispering as it went, "you're here! You're here!"

"It spoke!" Tommy wished he hadn't left his magical things at the hotel room.

He had Alfie's two-way mirror, but he was hardly ever alone long enough to check it, and his wand. He'd just have to rely on his wits alone for this. And really, was speaking to a snake any stranger than a ghost? "Come back?" he called.

The snake's voice came first, a confused and curious echo of his own.

"Come back? Come back?"

He held his hands out and the snake returned to his palm, soothing in a scaly way.

"Can you speak? Really speak?" Tommy tried. The ghost of Alec's father spoke English, at least.

"I speak. I speak," the snake said. Tommy held it up to look in its marbled brown eye.

"What sort of snake are you?" Tommy tried.

"I am! I am!"

"I expect you wouldn't know," Tommy told it. Its blunt round head weaved back and forth, while it coiled slowly but steadily around his fingers. "Do you want to be my pet? You could eat all the mice in the cellar," Tommy continued.

"Mice! Mice! Food!" the snake said.

"Alright, well as long as mum lets me keep you," Tommy told it. He wondered if the snake understood 'mother'.

Tommy returned along the same path he'd used, but as the resort's roofline rose up over the crest of a hill, he spotted a different path leading away along the coast. The path hadn't been visible before, but when Tommy came to the fork where it met the larger walking path, he wondered how he could have missed it. Straight, clear and seeming to lead in a definite direction.

"Er, do you think it's safe?" he asked the snake. It was a local. It ought to know.

"Safe! Safe!"

"You're not very talkative, are you?"

"I speak," the snake said, sounding a little affronted.

"Are you magical?" Tommy tried. The snake blinked at him.

"I am."

Did it know, really? Tommy shrugged and tucked the snake into the pocket of his jacket. It seemed to appreciate the warmth, for it curled into a ball and remained there. He had the impression that if snakes could purr, this one would.

The path came abruptly to the beach and from there lost itself in the rocky coastline. Looking back, Tommy could make out the lagoon where the resort was situated, and the pleasure boats sailing from the marina. He turned and pressed ahead.

"They won't miss me anyway, they'll be talking about the war and won't want me to hear," Tommy told the snake.

"War?" the snake said.

"Never mind. It's complicated," Tommy said.

The beach grew rockier the further they got from the resort and civilization. The wind came right off the sea and buffered back against the rocky shore, which grew steadily until cliffs towered above Tommy. It was like standing on the edge of the world. The snake seemed to whimper as it said,

"Cold! Too cold!"

"I know. We should probably go back now. I expect they miss me," Tommy said. The snake didn't seem to mind.

Tommy considered how closely he felt as the snake did. When the snake complained of cold, a creeping chill ran up Tommy's neck. When the snake didn't understand war, Tommy felt a vast and nameless terror fill up his belly. This cowardice could easily be the snake's skittishness. "Even if they are missing me, it's still daylight. Let's go on. I'll protect you," Tommy said.

"Protect…" the snake said.

Tommy walked the coast until the last traces of sand had washed away between rocky pools. He still pressed on. Tidal pools bloomed around him, ringed with anemones and snails. He stopped to look into one of these but drew back.

The waters were always murky, swimming with mysterious creatures Tommy didn't recognize. Tommy soon ran out of rocks he could safely climb, but he pressed forward. Something had pointed this path out to him, he'd be damned if he ignored it now.

"Magic," the snake spoke suddenly but very sure of itself. "Magic."

"Magic? Where?" Tommy fished the snake out of his pocket and held it up to the cold sea spray. They balanced on the last large rock Tommy'd found, facing the sea and the Welsh coast.

"Magic! In the water. All around," the snake said. It writhed and squirmed until Tommy dropped it promptly into the water. It made silver ripples as it swam away, not out to sea, but around the rock where Tommy stood. He turned on the spot carefully, watching its progress. The snake swam for the cliff face and it was there Tommy spotted it: a jagged crack in the rock.

"Magic? In there?"

"Magic! All around! In the water, in the wind," the snake said, its voice fading as it drew away from him. Tommy'd learned to swim with Owen Owens and Liz. With one last look at the path he'd followed, Tommy kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks. He secured his coat on and tied his shoes to his belt, before slipping into the cold water.

The current whirled around him just like the floo powder fire. Tommy paddled hard, following the snake's wake. The jagged opening split over the water, with nothing but darkness beyond.

"Wait," Tommy called, swallowing a mouthful of seawater.

"Magic all around," the snake called back. If he stayed here, he'd be dashed on the rocks. Tommy kicked hard and paddled into the darkness.

He felt the walls around him and braced himself against the current. The tide would surely claim this cave if he lingered. Just as he thought this, his feet found the bottom. Tommy scrambled onto the rocks, careful to avoid crushing the snake.

It was cold in the cave, but the air tasted fresh. Wishing he'd brought a torch along, or at least his wand, Tommy scrabbled for hand holds as water gurgled at his feet.

"Are you still here?"

"I am here," the snake said. Tommy reached towards its voice and skinned his palm on a rock.

"Ow! Shit!"

Cursing never felt so good. For a moment anger bitter as poison filled his mouth and belly: anger at papa, at his teachers, most of all at these Gaunts who'd left him and his mother to die in a hospital without even leaving their names.

"Shit shit damn!" Tommy shouted. Then he laughed. There was no one here to curse, no one but a snake who wouldn't understand anyway.

"Quiet," the snake whispered. Tommy groped around for it again. This time, his hand found rock for a moment. Then the rock disappeared from his grasp. He made a swipe into the darkness and where there'd been rock before was only air and a darkness so dense it might be solid.

A breeze played across his face from that darkness, a sweet fresh breeze so unexpected that Tommy leaned forward. He heard water splashing on rocks somewhere in the velvet darkness.

"What's happened?" Tommy whispered. In the total silence, he heard the snake's silken slither as a rasp.

"Magic," the snake said.

"Magic," Tommy breathed. The air of this place felt thick enough to squeeze the magic from.

As his eyes adjusted to the complete darkness, he caught a flare of light. Tommy couldn't place the source at first, for it shifted between green and purple so smoothly it was like trying to focus on the afterimage of a firework. "This must be magic," Tommy whispered.

The light flickered and flared but seemed to grow steadier the longer he stared at it. At last he could make out more of his surroundings.

He stood alone in the entrance to a vast cavern. A lake spread out almost at his feet, the water smoother than glass. The glowing green-purple light shone out like a dying star from the middle of this black glass lake.

"Hello?" Tommy called, wondering if someone or something had lit this light.

Nothing replied.

Tommy felt the snake slither up his bare foot, seeking his warm, safe pocket. He lowered his hand and guided the snake onto his palm.

"Do you know what this magic is?" Tommy whispered. The silence seemed too thick to be real. It was a silence full of unspoken secrets.

"Magic is…" the snake said.

Tommy sighed and returned the snake to his damp pocket. He walked to the water's edge and touched it.

The waters here, unlike the sea, felt warm. Tommy knelt down and breathed deeply. The waters gave off a powerfully sweet smell, in sharp contrast with the bitter sea water. Wondering what would happen if he drank the water, Tommy licked a drop off his hand.

Nothing happened, as nothing replied to his questions. The water tasted as sweet and clean as it smelled, and yet there was something in it. An extra charge to it.

"Is the water magic?" Tommy whispered.

"Magic in the water," the snake replied. Wishing he'd brought his wand, or Alfie's magic mirror, or papa, Tommy took a step into the water.

Nothing happened, nothing replied, nothing changed. Nothing, save the light, burning that steady purple-green glow.

Tommy took another step forward, and met a wall of nausea. He doubled over, clutching his writhing stomach. He took a lurching step backwards and found dry land. The nausea stopped as quickly as it started. In its place, guilt squirmed at the thought of what mum and papa would say.

"We should go home," Tommy whispered.

"Home," the snake said.

Nothing stopped them, nothing met them until the warm water of the cave met the cold of the sea.

* * *

><p>Mum scolded him until his ears blistered.<p>

"Tommy, you silly fool! You should know by now not to go running off or jumping into the sea in your clothes!"

She wasn't angry with him. She'd made him put the snake outside in the resort's gardens, but at least she wasn't angry.

"But mum, the snake brought me to this cave! And it was full of fresh water, and a magical light that glowed purple and green!"

"Tommy, never mind that! Didn't you realise you could have been hurt? Next time you want to be a daredevil, at least warn someone first," mum said.

She stopped drying off Tommy's hair and threw the soiled towel away. Papa chose that moment to walk in. He stopped short seeing Tommy, soaking and covered in sand, making a puddle on their carpets.

"Hullo papa," Tommy whispered.

"Gatito!" Papa actually shooed mum aside to take Tommy into the fiercest hug, until Tommy couldn't breathe. "You scared me half to death!"

"'M sorry, papa," Tommy squeaked. Papa kissed Tommy's forehead, leaving a burning mark behind.

"Aneirin, darling?" mum said. She sensed something at once, for she left them alone when papa looked at her.

"Papa," Tommy tried. Papa hadn't released him yet.

"Gatito, you know I'd never leave you. Even if we go to war. I will be with you always, gatito."

Tommy gave up trying to free himself and pressed his tears into papa's shirtfront.

"Papa…papa what happens if there is a war? How do I know you'll come back?" Tommy whispered the words to papa's heart. He could feel it beating through papa's shirt.

"I will come back, gatito. I will."

"As a ghost?" Tommy said, pulling back to look into papa's face. All the old worries were bare to him. They lined papa's forehead, they buried the light in papa's eyes.

"Do you think I believe in ghosts, Thomas?" papa said. He smiled, but it wasn't really a smile. The light was gone from it too.

"But they're real! My school's haunted and everything. I've even met Alec's fa—"

"—Hush, gatito. Don't tell Alec that. Don't tell Liz. Don't tell me."

All the questions Tommy had died in his throat. They could keep. He stayed in papa's arms, wrapped in blankets, until he'd dried off.

* * *

><p>Tommy had only a week at home before he'd have to return to Hogwarts. In the two months of holidays he'd not only gone to the seaside, but to the cinema with Liz and Alec and scrumping with Owen. He'd even learned to dance properly with Lottie Owens and helped mum and Grandmother prepare for their fall recitals. They were putting on something patriotic to keep spirits high.<p>

"I'm going to miss the wireless," Tommy told mum as she played the piano. The tune she'd picked sounded terribly melancholy.

"You should petition to have a magical wireless in your common room," mum said. She laughed and added, "we girls got together when I was at school and bought a phonograph. That way we had our music. We had to hide it from the headmistress, naturally."

"Naturally."

Tommy grinned and sat beside mum to join her. The tune resolved itself into _The Banks of Loch Lomond_ without either of them saying a word.

"You like Alec, don't you, Tommyknocker? He spoils you almost as badly as he spoils Lizzy," mum said.

Tommy flushed as he grinned. Alec didn't act like he was "spoiling" anybody.

"Treat's on me today, little man," he'd say as he bought Tommy and Liz ice creams. "Don't think on it, Tommyknocker," he'd said, when Tommy went into raptures over a new book Alec gave him, about Carter's discovery of King Tutankhamun's tomb.

"Liz likes Alec," Tommy said, which didn't answer the question. By now mum knew Tommy'd do that if he didn't want to admit she was right.

"Well, the bloom isn't yet off the rose," mum said. She finished the phrase Tommy'd begun and then closed the piano lid. "Aside from Alfie, aren't you getting on with anyone?"

"Mum," Tommy sighed. She'd declared him dancing with Lottie Owens 'adorable'. "Mum, I'm too young for girlfriends."

Mum patted his shoulder before standing and stretching out her hands and fingers.

"Nonsense. Now's the perfect age for it, and you might fall under the spell of a beautiful sorceress," mum said. She actually giggled at her own joke, and against his better judgment Tommy did the same.

"Alfie'd pitch a fit," Tommy said. Mum gave him a very queer look at that, but said nothing. He couldn't pluck up the courage to ask her where that look came from.

* * *

><p>On September 1st, all the regular newspapers boldly made the same declaration: "Germans Invade and Bomb Poland: Britain Mobilizes!"<p>

The ordinary people on the trains and Underground stared at Tommy, with his great steamer trunk. Mum didn't have the time to round up their family mouser, and although Liz had promised him a summer kitten, neither Uncle Stig nor Aunt Marie had been by yet.

"It's better you get the youngster away now," one woman said to mum, while they waited in King's Cross. Mum patted her hair nervously, then fussed with Tommy's until he pushed her hand away.

"You'd better bring me home for Christmas!" Tommy said. Mum and papa glanced at each other before papa answered.

"Gatito, it might be safer for you at school."

"Bollocks to that! Bring me home for Christmas! I don't want you going to war!"

Papa frowned as he scolded.

"Gatito, such language is inexcusable. I will not be going as a soldier," he said.

"It doesn't matter. Don't go at all."

"Tommyknocker, darling, you'll miss your train," mum said. She seized papa by the elbow and together they pushed his cart towards the magical barrier. They stopped just short of entering.

"Now, we'll do what we can, Tommy, but you must understand it'll be uncertain for a little while. Your Grandmother and I will be in the Red Cross as well, and Aunt Marie."

"You had better bring me back, or I'll break the rules and come to you," Tommy said. Although he scowled up at them, mum smiled and kissed his cheek.

"We promise. Now, go find Alfie. I'm sure he's dying to see you," she said, pushing Tommy gently toward the barrier.

Papa gave him a brief, fierce hug. Tommy lingered, trying to cling and pretending he wasn't. It was only the appearance of Alfie and his family that sent Tommy scurrying ahead of them through the barrier.

Alfie dragged his younger brother along, pointed at Tommy from across the crowded platform and bounded over, squealing,

"Cyggy! He's here! This is Tommy Davies-Maldonado! He's brilliant! Aren't you brilliant, Tommy?"

Tommy shrugged at Cyggy. He looked as sullen as Walburga, a pinched little old man's face on an eleven year old.

"Wallie says you're muggle-born," Cyggy said. Tommy shrugged this off, but Alfie looked offended on his behalf.

"Don't say things like that, you pillock!" He punched Cyggy in the shoulder. Cyggy screwed up his face and yowled. "Come on, before Wallie finds us," Alfie said.

He grabbed Tommy by the elbow and marched him away. They found a compartment with Ivor and Cuthbert again, and were quickly joined by some of the new firsties.

Soon the compartment seemed overloaded with boys and gobstones, sweet wrappers and exploding snap cards. In all the hullabaloo, Tommy managed to forget the muggle newspapers.

He regretted it the next morning over breakfast. It struck him as immensely strange, stranger than anything magical, not to wake to a wireless news program. Very few of his teachers read newspapers over their breakfast, something papa and mum did religiously.

By the end of the day, although Tommy completed most of the holiday classwork, he felt like a total ignoramus. He waited until supper to voice these feelings to Alfie.

"Had a good summer, did you?" Alfie said. He'd been in a running argument all day about quidditch with his cousin Orion.

"I did."

"Thanks for bringing me into that talkie, that _Wizard of Oz_. Do muggles really think that about us? That we have green skin and make little tin soldiers?"

"They've got other things to worry about besides magic," Tommy murmured.

Alec and Liz had brought him to see _The Wizard of Oz_ after he'd begged them. Tommy had all the books in pride of place on his shelf, right next to his dog-eared _The Hobbit_.

"Oh yeah? Do your quidditch teams have problems with broom-hexing?" Alfie said. Tommy'd thought he'd love flying on a broomstick, but he hated nothing worse than quidditch. He couldn't think of any sport with a greater chance for death, or a greater need to be banned from all schools.

"No! Listen, Alf, I couldn't tell you properly in the mirror, but I have to tell you now. I found a secret cave!"

"Ooooo!" Tommy could forgive Alfie's inexplicable passion for quidditch when he became such an admiring audience. "Was it the Chamber of Secrets?"

Tommy sighed and rolled his eyes. Alfie's enthusiasm blinded him to common sense. Tommy smacked Alfie in the forehead the way Liz would have.

"No, you idiot, the Chamber's here at school! I found a secret cave in Somerset, when we went to the seaside," Tommy said. Alfie's eyes looked ready to pop.

"No!"

"Yes! I was walking and I found a snake and it showed me. It told me there was magic all around, and I looked and I found it."

Tommy braced himself for more questions about the cave, but Alfie fixed him with a very strange look as he said,

"You're a Parselmouth? How come I didn't know that?"

"Er, Parselmouth?" Tommy shrugged off the funny word. It was Alfie's turn to shake his head in exasperation. He smacked Tommy, gently, round the mouth.

"You can talk to snakes. I suppose it would make sense though, if you were really a Gaunt, and they came from Slytherin."

"I've never really thought about it. It never seemed like magic to me," Tommy said. Alfie rolled his eyes this time and went back to his dessert. Tommy'd lost his appetite.

He wanted to see his parents already. He wanted to see Liz and ask how her air force training was going. She'd written to him, care of his parents. Apparently they let her fly solo, as she put it, because she was a leading aircraft woman. She'd drawn pictures of her plane for him. She couldn't draw well, but her pride came right off the page like heat.

It all suddenly seemed so useless. He was trapped in a mysterious old castle in Scotland while his parents and his favourite cousin and her dashing young man all went off to war. He couldn't do anything for them. All he could do was turn matchsticks into needles and charm china birds to sing.

"I'm going to bed," Tommy whispered to Alfie. He was lying in his teeth, but Alfie didn't notice. Malfoy did notice as Tommy passed him.

Tommy heard footsteps behind him. He turned away from their dreary common room and headed up the great marble staircase, hoping the library would be deserted. Once he'd reached the first landing, Malfoy called to him.

"Oi! You, Davies, mudblood."

Tommy shivered while Malfoy stalked upstairs to join him.

"What do you want?" Tommy said. Malfoy's prefect badge gleamed on his chest. A rumour had gone up and down the train that he'd campaigned hard for Head Boyship and been passed over for one of Headmaster Dippett's Ravenclaws.

"Five points from Slytherin for cheek," Malfoy said, with an almost casual wave. His clenched fists gave him away, as always.

"I'll make it back later. What do you want?" Tommy tried keeping the anger out of his voice, but it wasn't easy.

"Heard from Old Sluggy that you're looking into your family tree. He seems to think you aren't the mudblood you look."

"Leave me alone," Tommy said, as steady as he could. Malfoy smirked but let Tommy go.

The betrayal stung. What was Slughorn thinking? Had he been asking around about these Gaunts with his pureblooded pets? Had Malfoy really been told this, or had he snooped? Snooping seemed part of his style. He at least seemed to use his prefectural duties to suck up to teachers and levy his influence, rather than hex first years as some of the other prefects were wont to do.

Tommy took out a stack of books about snakes and magic and Parselmouths, intending to read about instances of this bizarre new power of his. He read into the night, despite grumbles from the other boys.

The next morning would have passed in a dreary haze, but for Maisie Gardner. Just after the post owls dropped off the first wave of home letters, she ran across the Great Hall.

"Tommy? Tommy Davies? I don't know if you've heard —" she began, skidding to a halt at Tommy's side.

"—here, Hufflepuff, what are you doing?" Malfoy said, appearing at once to bully her back into place.

Maisie ducked around him and aimed for Tommy, her eyes overbright and huge.

"They've done it. There'll be war for sure. My dad's joining up with the Home Guard," Maisie said. She thrust a newspaper under Tommy's nose. It read: "Prime Minister Will Speak From Downing Street at 11:00. Diplomatic Deadline Expires at 5pm!"

"We have to get to a wireless," Tommy said, pushing the paper down. Maisie was pink with worry and excitement.

"Professor Beery has one in his office, but he uses it to listen to drama programs," Maisie said.

"Did you hear me, you little cretin? Go back to your table," Malfoy said, ripping the newspaper from Maisie's hands. She teared up at the look on his face and ran off. "And you, Davies, shouldn't be dragging your idiotic muggle business into Hogwarts. No one here cares about a muggle war."

"It might not stay a muggle war," Tommy said, standing up. He wanted to run after Maisie, but Malfoy blocked his path and some of Malfoy's friends stood to join him. "Isn't Grindelwald doing the same thing as Hitler? Isn't the Minister of Magic going to fight Grindelwald?"

"Isn't someone going to save us?" Malfoy said, in a mock-childish whine. His friends flashed the wands in their pockets and sleeves. "No, Davies, no one gives a damn about a tiny blot on the muggle map. No one gives a damn about Hitler or your muggle war. And if you don't shut your mouth, we'll do it for you."

Tommy saw the hex spelled out plainly behind Malfoy's eyes. He didn't have to think about it, he waved his wand and a shield appeared, glittering between Malfoy and himself.

"Here now, boys, there's no magic allowed except in the classrooms! I'm afraid that's five points each, Malfoy, Davies," Professor Slughorn said, having bustled down from the high table to intervene.

"Yes, sir," Malfoy said, retreating with his group. He glared at Tommy as he left.

Tommy joined Maisie and a few other Hufflepuff muggle-borns from the upper years later that day. While Professor Beery poured tea, they listened to the Prime Minister's address:

"…now may God bless you all. May He defend the right. For it is evil things that we shall be fighting against - brute force, bad faith, injustice, oppression and persecution - and against them I am certain that right will prevail."


	7. Until Summer Break 1940

**Trigger Warning: Blitzkrieg**

* * *

><p>September went by in a barrage of letters. Mum did most of the writing, as papa had re-enlisted.<p>

She stopped trying to jolly Tommy along with promises that they'd be safe after her very first letter. Tommy'd tried to send a vitriolic missive, felt terrible, ripped it up and sent only a single word in response:

"Liar"

"I imagine they'll start controlling mail soon. You're quite lucky to be all the way in Scotland. There's been talk about evacuating large cities, and as you're well away from civilization we might not have you home for Christmas," mum wrote.

At least mum was honest the next time. Papa never wrote at all, usually signing in a post-script: "With all my love, mijito gatito".

* * *

><p>Tommy sighed as Alfie ate his way through a box of peppermint toads. Alfie had bought them as a Christmas present to himself. He'd offered some to Tommy, of course, but Tom had a feeling the offer was superficial.<p>

They were on the Hogwarts Express home for the holidays. Tommy'd stopped getting letters a month before, right after sending papa a birthday card. He'd spent the remainder of the semester fretting.

"I'm going to petition Professor Slughorn to install a wireless in the common room," Tommy said. Alfie swallowed the last toad whole and scooted closer.

"You know old Dippett wouldn't touch any muggle thingy with a ten foot broomstick," Alfie said. He rubbed his chin in thought before adding, "mind, I'd love to learn how to dance. You're always banging on about sock mops and malt shops and hot swings."

"Hot jazz," Tommy said. The _Daily Prophet _was always at least a month behind the muggle news, so it didn't surprise Tommy to find an article about "War in Europe, Muggles Fleeing Nasties". He ripped the article up in disgust.

"Wish they'd talk about what's happening to the rest of the world," Tommy said. Alfie scoffed and tossed his curls.

"They reported when the Polish wizards came seeking asylum," he said, already lost in a quidditch article. "And those ruddy Germans are refusing to play in the World Cup while the countries are at war!"

"Well, I rather think there's a war on, moron," Tommy said, echoing something he'd heard other muggle-borns chanting.

"Don't call me that! You'll tell me what happens, won't you?" Alfie said.

Tommy'd made certain to pack the two-way mirror.

"I will. But I doubt we'll be going to the cinema, what with the war on—"

"—Moron."

* * *

><p>It was a miserable Christmas, the worst Tommy'd ever had. Liz and Alec were both still in training in Scotland somewhere, Uncle Stig was in the Home Guard and too tired to come and papa had to oversee the medical supplies at the local depot.<p>

Mum and Grandmother couldn't pretend they weren't worried in person. Aunt Marie spent most of Christmas Day crying or recounting stories about her girlhood in Belgium, before the Germans drove the family out.

Tommy ended up spending all of the holidays but his birthday in his room, doing homework or reading about famous ancient Parselmouths. Alfie wasn't often around. He was probably having his own posh Christmas in London.

They didn't have a cake for Tommy's birthday. Instead, mum opened a bottle of champagne, sent from the DeLacys.

"With our compliments, for Thomas, who's now a proper young gentleman. Drink to an early end to the war", mum read the card aloud and threw it aside. "Really, drinking at your age."

"May I taste it?" Tommy tried wheedling. After frowning, mum relented.

"I suppose so. You've gotten so tall, Tommyknocker. You're as tall as papa," mum said. She had to reach up to ruffle Tommy's hair now. Tommy let her. He missed it even if he never told her.

They sipped champagne and listened to a patriotic broadcast. Tommy couldn't decide if he liked the taste of champagne. He hated the bubbles, but as he sipped he grew used to it. Grandmother fell asleep at the radio and didn't rouse even after papa came in at midnight.

"Happy New Year and Happy Birthday, my gatito. You're a young man now," papa said, kissing Tommy's forehead before taking off his snowy great coat.

"Thank you, papa," Tommy said.

* * *

><p>Tommy spent the rest of winter semester buried in research. He camped long hours in the library, behind a fortress of books, hiding from Malfoy and his cohorts.<p>

They'd taken it upon themselves to hex any muggle-born into silence, especially if the students took up the "War on, Moron" chant. They'd even cursed Maisie Gardner so that her witch's cap stuck to her head, flashing "Moron" at people.

"Find anything interesting, Davies?" someone said, one blustery March afternoon. No one, not even Alfie, ever interrupted Tommy during his reading. Tommy peered up from his tome on the life and deeds of Saint Patrick of Ireland, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Professor Dumbledore came into focus.

"Professor?" Tommy said. He didn't want to be rude, but he wished he could tell instructors when to nose around elsewhere.

"Now really, Davies, we mustn't be so rude. Being cooped up in the library at all hours has made you forget your manners," Dumbledore said, very much as though he'd heard every unkind thing Tommy'd thought.

"Sir, my apologies," Tommy said, doing his best not to sound prickly. Dumbledore shrugged, a mild false smile playing around his face.

"Well, an insincere apology is better than none at all." Tommy bristled at this, but bit his tongue. Dumbledore continued without comment, "I've heard from Horace that you're distantly related to the Gaunts. I was under the impression you were a muggle-born."

"I am, sir. I mean that I grew up outside the wizarding world," Tommy said. He decided on the spot he'd have to invest in another batch of crystallized pineapple.

"You're adopted. After I heard that Horace made some inquiries about your registration, I did some checking on my own. You see, I remember Marvolo Gaunt."

Tommy'd been ready to sneak out his two-way mirror, but he hesitated. Dumbledore, making his own investigation? That simply would not stand!

"Sir, it's a private matter. I don't think it's any of your business," Tommy said at once, standing so he had some height. Dumbledore looked mildly annoyed.

"I was under the impression that you wanted help finding Marvolo Gaunt. I can tell you with certainty that he's no longer alive," Dumbledore said.

It was just like meeting that wall of nausea back in the sea cave. Tommy lurched on the spot, a thick, sickly sweetness in his mouth.

"He's dead? But how do you know that?" Tommy asked.

Dumbledore patted Tommy's shoulder, but Tommy pushed him away. This time Dumbledore made a huff of impatience.

"I was making unrelated inquiries many years ago, and learned that Marvolo and his son had been arrested for attacking muggles. Marvolo was a violent-tempered man. He did not go quietly and I believe he sustained serious injury in Azkaban. When he was released, he returned home and passed away. His son followed him a few years later."

Tommy shuddered and stopped himself.

"What kind of inquiries?" Tommy said.

Dumbledore's infuriating little smile jabbed like a pinprick.

"As you yourself said, they were personal and confidential. I happened to come across the arrest record in the course of them, and it struck me as just the sort of unfortunate end Marvolo might come to. To be frank, Davies, you are lucky you escaped his clutches. He was never fond of muggles."

"Right, well, I'm glad then I have mum and papa to go home to," Tommy said, angry at Dumbledore and thus keen to show his muggle-born pride. "Wait. Would Marvolo have come back as a ghost?"

Dumbledore had taken up one of Tommy's library books. Tommy grabbed it back and fixed Dumbledore with the glare he'd learned from mum. Dumbledore sized him up a moment before saying,

"That was very rude. Five points from Slytherin. No, I don't think Marvolo is a ghost, or if he is, he never made himself known. In the future, Davies, I would advise you to keep your private things _private_."

Dumbledore left Tommy fuming, _The Deeds of Saint Patrick: Holy Parselmouth_ clenched in his hand, wand in the other.

* * *

><p>"Dead? Dead! Well, I suppose that was expected. You said the Sorting Hat barely recognised you," Alfie said, the moment Tommy'd shared his encounter with him.<p>

In two weeks, they were supposed to be going home, but Professor Dippett planned an Assembly for that afternoon. Tommy'd been kept informed by Maisie and other muggle-borns' papers. Mum's letters were being magically censored so much they were as good as useless. No matter how many spells Tommy tried, he couldn't Vanish the long black rectangles blotting his mum's artistic script. The only good news was that Liz had been stationed at an airfield within an hour's walk from Hogsmeade.

"Even so, Slughorn's been blabbing about it all over the place, like it isn't a secret. We still don't know how much of a Gaunt I am!" Tommy said.

Alfie shrugged this off with the usual dimpled grin.

"Still hoping we're kissing cousins?" he whispered.

"Oh shove off," Tommy said, giving Alfie a good-natured push. They jostled each other all the way into the Great Hall.

Professor Dippett, though tiny and old, still had enough pep to climb up in front of the school and give incredibly long lectures. His speeches were the stuff of legend among the students: Cuthbert Crabbe swore that you could fall asleep faster at the Leaving Feast than any one of Professor Binns' courses.

"May I have your attention, please?" Dippett said. He had to. No one would give it otherwise. Alfie leaned across the table at Tommy, whispering,

"Wonder if he's canceling exams because there's a war on, mor—"

"—Due to the muggle war on the Continent, we will be ending term a week early. This is to ensure that our muggle-born students can be with their families, and perhaps make alternative arrangements should they become necessary. The school governors are considering remaining open over the holidays, for any student who requires such accommodations."

The rest of the speech disappeared into the urgent whispers up and down the tables.

Malfoy and Greengrass rolled their eyes at Tommy. Alfie looked stricken. Tommy craned around to look for Maisie Gardner. She'd put her head together with a few other Hufflepuffs.

On the train home, Tommy ignored the rumours Alfie swapped with Cuthbert and Ivor. The landscape outside looked much the same as when he'd travelled last September the first. One year into the war, and all that seemed to change was the lack of road signs. When they reached the London city limits, it was a different story.

Tommy spotted what looked like silver dirigibles. When they left Platform 9 3/4s, Tommy stared at the other trains. The windows had been painted black and covered in a wiry mesh.

"You staying with your muggle family?" Walburga Black said, stalking past him, dragging Alfie and Cyggy with her. Maisie followed them with her mother and a woman who might be an auntie.

"Tommy? Is it alright if I give you my telephone number? You have one at home, don't you?" Maisie said, without preamble.

"We do. My papa's a doctor," Tommy said.

"Mine's an engineer. We're here in London, Tommy. If I can, I'll ring you. I don't know if we'll be coming back…" she trailed off and smiled grimly. Her mother seized her and dragged her away, with only a wave for Tommy.

Mum waited for him in the main concourse. Like all the women around her, she had a smart suit on, plain gloves and hat. She also had a Red Cross patch sewn over her heart.

"Tommy, sweetheart," mum said, seizing him in a brief but fierce hug. She looked pinched. "Darling, I'm all of a dither. We had such a telling off from the air raid warden last night, and Grandmother organizing a ward at Crossfields," mum paused to draw breath, while Tommy flinched at the harshness of it, "Darling we won't be going anywhere this summer. Your father and I almost had second thoughts about bringing you home."

"What? Why?"

"Darling, we'll talk on the train," mum said.

They hurried to catch the train into Cardiff, stopping along the way to verify their citizenship, their destination, their loyalty to the British Crown and their lack of German ancestry. There must have been ten checkpoints for each city block.

"Has it really been like this?" Tommy shuddered as a pair of Home Guardsmen menaced them with old-fashioned bayonets.

"Darling, Tommyknocker, there's been talk about an invasion. We're all to knuckle under and keep safe," mum whispered as the Home Guardsmen strolled passed.

"They wouldn't invade us, would they? We're going to beat them, aren't we?"

Mum patted him sadly. The train to Cardiff wasn't nearly as crowded as Tommy'd expected. Mum was quiet, while Tommy watched a changed landscape fly past. None of the railway crossings had signs. He spotted distant squadrons of airplanes patrolling the skies.

"Liz is in one of those," Tommy said, pointing at the distant planes. Mum didn't look proud now.

"Darling, there's something we want to tell you. Your papa and I."

A cold stone settled in Tommy's belly, but he ignored it.

"What's happened? What's wrong?"

Mum clasped his hands and smiled. For the first time, Tommy noticed grey streaks in mum's dark hair.

"Darling, we have evacuees. Grandmother's been put in charge of the local movements, and your papa and I got Martin and Daniel Plaskett. They were evacuated from London. You're away at school, so we offered them a home."

Tommy blinked while mum clutched his hands. Behind the wrinkles and grey hairs, behind even the worry over him, Tommy read something else. Mum wanted him to have brothers. She'd always wanted him to have family.

"It's alright, mum, it's fine. It'll be wizard, just like having brothers," Tommy said, entirely too hearty for his own liking. It made mum smile, which was the most important thing. "They can have my Meccano set," he added.

"Oh, they've taken to it, they have."

Tommy smirked as mum giggled.

Martin and Daniel were waiting for them when they reached home. Like the trains and all the other buildings Tommy studied, mum and papa had put up blackout curtains. The entrance hall was downright gloomy with the curtains part-way drawn.

Martin seemed to be the older one. He shoved Daniel aside and thrust his hand out for Tommy.

"I'm Marty. Your mum's really wizard! Our mum works in a bomb factory, she doesn't have time to watch us. Now we're here, she can only ring us."

Tommy took the two boys in. They had the pinkish cheeks and tidy hair of two boys who'd been ordered to "make themselves smart".

"Do you like listening to _The Shadow_?" Daniel whispered.

"Mum let's you listen to the wireless that late?" Tommy said, grinning first at Daniel and then raising an eyebrow at mum.

She ignored him by shunting them into the dining room.

"Since we're all so many to lunch these days, and with three growing boys, we're eating in here. I'll just get tea on. You three can get to chatting," mum said. She retreated gracefully to the kitchens, winking at Tommy as she did.

"I've got a few comics too, did mum show you?" Tommy asked them both.

The boys whispered, before Martin said,

"Hope you don't mind. Your mum let us borrow your toys and books. We don't have so many at home, we couldn't pack them for the evacuation."

Tommy shrugged.

"It's better they get used," he said.

"Especially the model planes! We brought one each, but you've got more!" Daniel said. He had cabbage-leaf ears and scraggly teeth and reminded Tommy of a photograph he'd seen of Uncle Stig. Before the gas burns.

"That really is wizard. Did you meet Lizzy McGillicuddy? She's my god sister and an aircraft woman."

"We have. She's pretty. Her old man isn't," Martin said.

Tommy didn't want to talk about that war any more than he wanted to talk about Gaunts or magical sea caves.

"Uncle Stig's alright," Tommy said.

They spent all of tea and most of the afternoon comparing model planes and comics. Martin and Daniel both knew a lot about bombers and gunners, since their mother worked in a factory. Daniel was only eight, but Martin was eleven. Tommy wondered what it would be like to see him at Hogwarts.

Their tea was much poorer now that rationing had been imposed, but mum had brought out Grandmother's preserves to sweeten the dull bread.

Papa and Uncle Stig both joined them once Uncle Stig's Home Guard duties were over. Uncle Stig had sweets and comics for the little boys, and news for Tommy.

"Tommyknocker, old man. Alec Montgomery says he's wondering if he can't visit you up at your school. Says he's training there now. You like that pillock, Tom?" Uncle Stig said.

They were supposed to be listening to the wireless, but Martin and Daniel were bickering over which program to chose. Uncle Stig and Tommy had the perfect cover to discuss Liz's undesirable romance.

"Why don't you?" Tommy said. Uncle Stig, unlike mum, didn't know this game. He frowned, his eyes two smoldering embers.

"Hated his old man. They're all the same. Conceited. Pigs," he said.

Tommy thought of the ghost of Alec's father. He'd been handsome, like Alec, but miserable and cold. Maybe being a ghost had nothing to do with it.

"Liz likes Alec. Alec likes her. She's old enough to know what she's doing," Tommy said. Uncle Stig laughed, but his laughter sounded tired and feeble.

"Right, old man. It'll be different if you have a daughter and she steps out with a self-absorbed egotist."

Tommy laughed.

"Maybe I won't have a daughter," he said.

This time, when Uncle Stig laughed, it sounded genuine.

"That's right. You could be one of those bachelor professors your papa and I had at school. Or you could have sons. Or you might run off with that Alfred."

"Alfie's just a friend," Tommy said, shocking himself that such a thing needed stating. Uncle Stig's grin didn't shift.

"Right. And I'm a monkey's uncle," he said.

Tommy let Uncle Stig playfully punch him, but the teasing stopped when papa brought out a liquor that smelled medicinal. He and Uncle Stig retreated to a dark corner to smoke and talk of war.

Tommy hovered in the middle ground. Mum was shepherding Martin and Daniel to bed. Papa and Uncle Stig were ignoring him.

Tommy slipped outside into the back garden. He could see many more stars than usual with the blackout in effect. In the distance, he heard an air raid warden's whistle. Now was the only time to speak to Alfie.

"Psst."

"Psst yourself, Tommy Davies-Maldonado," Alfie whispered back. Tommy could barely make out Alfie's face, only his glittering eyes.

"Are you alright?" Tommy whispered.

"Been better. Mother and Father are going batty about this war business. The neighbours have dug a bomb shelter. A bomb shelter! They're so stupid, they actually think it'll protect them!"

"Shh! It can't hurt if there's an invasion!" Tommy said.

"It'd be impossible for muggles to blow our house up. We've got spells on it. You should come stay here for the summer. You could stay in my room!" Alfie said.

"Where, in your closet? Don't be a prat, I couldn't go to London! They're evacuating cities!"

Tommy was certain that Alfie had rolled his eyes.

"But that's just it, you wouldn't have to evacuate. No one's left Diagon and Knockturn alley yet, you'd think they would," Alfie said.

Tommy heard mum chivying the little boys up the stairs.

"I should go. See you in September."

"Fine. No talkies?"

Tommy slammed the mirror's case closed.

* * *

><p>The sound of distant fireworks woke him. Down the hallway, he heard Daniel whimpering for his mother.<p>

"Mum? Papa?" Tommy said. He slipped out of bed and into his dressing gown.

"Shh, Tommy darling, go back to sleep," mum said.

Tommy met mum in the doorway. She had only a small candle lit.

"But, what is it? Are there fireworks?" Tommy said. Who'd have fireworks during a war?

Mum grabbed his face in both her hands and almost squeezed the breath out of him.

"Tommy! Those are bombs! They're dropping bombs on Cardiff, the Germans!"

Daniel's whimpering grew to a keen.

"Mu~u~ummy!"

Tommy and mum both crashed through the doorway into the guest room the little boys shared.

"No, Daniel, sweetie, your mother is in London," mum said. She sat down beside the little boy and made soothing noises as she stroked his face.

Martin watched through a slit in the blackout curtains. Tommy joined him. He could just make out the reflections of fires in the distance.

"They're dropping them bombs all over England. Over London, where mum lives," Martin said.

Tommy wanted to be sick, but he was older and thus supposed to be a role model.

"She'll be alright. Everything will be fine when the war's over."

"You're whistling past the graveyard if you think that," Martin muttered.

Tommy had nothing to counter this. The fires in the distance grew, and the distant popping explosions. It seemed ages later when they heard the whine of RAF planes hurtling in to engage.

"You think Liz will ever fight Gerry?" Martin whispered. The explosions were cut with the intermittent patter of machine gunfire.

"If she could, she would," Tommy replied.

Mum eventually made them return to bed. She tucked the two little boys into the guest bed and gave Daniel many hugs. She wouldn't let Tommy go to bed without an extra long bear hug.


	8. Fall Term 1940

**AN: Trigger Warning: Telegram**

* * *

><p>Liz and Alec both had leave at the same time. They were the ones to see him to London for Hogwarts, although Liz and Tommy pretended Tommy was catching the Flying Scotsman. Together, Alec and Liz looked like the handsome, dutiful people on recruitment posters.<p>

"Hope the bombs weren't keeping you awake," Alec said, when he met Tommy off the Cardiff train.

Cardiff had suffered enormous destruction, especially to the docks and shipyards. Tommy'd been only dimly aware of the damage to London, but upon exiting the train in Paddington the magnitude of the devastation overwhelmed him.

Roofs had been blown off. Housing blocks were heaps of rubble. Streets were blockaded, craters shattering the smooth pavement. Rubble and dust covered everything.

"Does this happen all the time?" he whispered. The nearest buildings had burst windows and charred brickwork. The wind blew in the acrid smell of recently-doused fires.

"Nae, not always. We've been good at catching them," Alec said, stopping himself from giving away RAF secrets.

Liz walked on Tommy's other side, sandwiching Tommy between them. He sensed how they wanted to hold each other, but the uniforms seemed to restrain them more than Tommy's presence.

"Do you ever get to dogfight?" Tommy asked Liz. She laughed dryly and took off her cap. Her hair gleamed in the September sunlight. Tommy supposed she was every bit as pretty as Martin said, for Alec wasn't the only man eyeing her now.

"Tommyknocker, you know they don't let us 'gels' enter combat. We have enough on our hands towing back planes and deploying barrage balloons," she said.

Alec laughed and gave Tommy a gentle shove so that he bumped into Liz.

"You'd enlist if you could, old man?" Alec said.

Tommy felt Liz tense up behind him, but he gave a noncommittal shrug.

"I'm not nearly old enough. I suppose there are things I could do," he said, to appease Alec. When Alec laughed, dimples winked out of his cheeks and chin.

Alfie chose this moment to arrive on the steps into King's Cross. He drew up short when he saw Tommy sandwiched between two RAF uniforms. Tommy laughed at the look on Alfie's face. Alfie glared at Liz before throwing Alec a look of pure venom. Tommy saw all the thoughts passing through Alfie's mind as if they were title cards at the cinema.

Jealousy, not too surprisingly, and covetousness directed entirely at Tommy.

"Hullo, Alfie. This is my cousin, Liz, and her beau, Alec," Tommy said, hurrying forward to pull Alfie out of his jealous fit.

Alfie seemed a little mollified when he heard the word 'beau'. The set of his shoulders suggested some of the covetousness remained, but Alfie buried that under dimples almost as bright as Alec's.

"You know he talks of nothing else," Alfie said, with an excellent turn at a winning smile.

"Oh, Tommyknocker's mentioned you too," Liz said. She gave Tommy a patronizing little smirk. So she'd noticed as well.

"Tommyknocker? That's just precious!" Alfie said, dropping the jealousy like a hot potato.

"Ah, I don't think he likes it, do you old man?" Alec said, giving Tommy what could only be a lecherous nudge. Alfie'd managed to spread it around completely, and all without a word being said.

"I don't mind," Tommy lied. The three of them laughed, united by good looks, dimples and a determination to take the piss out of Tommy.

"I'll be certain the whole House knows by the evening," Alfie said, with a wink at Liz. He seemed very taken with her now, and she with him.

"Make sure this one gets air and sunlight. I've never seen him this peaky," she said with a downright motherly pat on Tommy's head.

That tore it. Tommy backed away before either of them started fussing in earnest. Alec followed.

"Your school may have to keep you over Christmas, old man," Alec said.

Tommy glared at him.

"Mum and papa will always take me back," he said.

"Nae, that's not what I meant. They're bombing the cities, and the government's been evacuating a lot of children. Some of them are going overseas, where it's safer. I'm thinking Doctor and Lady Davies would do well to send you abroad."

"They won't. They never will," Tommy said. Alec shrugged at this. When Tommy studied him out of the corner of his eye, he seemed to flicker in and out of existence. Tommy didn't want to think of what this meant.

"They'll do what they think is best for you," Alec said in an undertone.

"Do you miss your papa?" Tommy said. He trod carefully. The last time they'd talked about the dead Montgomery, Alec had threatened to punch Tommy in the nose. This time, although Alec clearly swallowed a curse, he sighed.

"More than ever. I was younger than you when he died."

"If you could see him again…" Tommy whispered. Would talking about ghosts be a breach of the International Statute? Muggles still believed in them. He hated to think what the Ministry would do to him, in the middle of a war. Alec managed to laugh, even if it masked a sob.

"He'd tell me I was a fool. He never wanted me to enlist. He said he didn't have sons to give them up to the war, the Great War, mind you. God only knows what he'd say now…"

"Well, I think he'd be proud of you. And he'd love you. Don't all parents?" Tommy said. Alec's smile did nothing to lift the burden of memory Tommy'd dropped on him.

"When's your train leaving? Shouldn't we get you to your platform?" Alec said.

"Eleven. Now that Alfie's here we can go in together. Don't worry about me," Tommy said the last bit before he'd considered it. Alec took off his cap to give Tommy a playful smack.

"Go on, away with you!" he said.

"Don't spend all your time in the library, Tommyknocker," Liz added. She and Alec's hands met so quickly, so naturally, they seemed to be of one mind.

"Ooo, Tommyknocker, I will never ever let you forget this," Alfie crowed. They met Cyggy, Ivor and Cuthbert on the other side of Platform 9 3/4.

"You certain you want to do that, Rigel?" Tommy retorted.

"If you weren't so good-looking I'd hex you," Alfie said.

* * *

><p>Tommy's long hours in the library earned him several commendations from his professors. He'd received letters from mum and Liz, with pictures scribbled by the Plaskett boys. Papa continued adding terse post-scripts. Sometimes the paper smelled of that medicinal alcohol.<p>

Although the war had whittled down the population of muggle-borns, many of them evacuated overseas, Professor Dippett went ahead with allowing the senior students to visit Hogsmeade village below the castle.

"It will give you all a chance to relax and put aside thoughts of this terrible war," he said piously, over their Start of Term feast.

Alfie actually squeezed Tommy's hand under the table.

"We'll be able to buy sweets ourselves! We'll be able to go anywhere we like," he said. A tingling sweetness came off Alfie, through their clasped hands. Tommy hesitated before letting go.

"Liz might still be stationed here, with Alec. Would you like to visit with them?" he asked.

"No, I would not like to visit your rubbishy muggle friends, no matter how gorgeous," Alfie replied, raising his eyebrows. Tommy did the same. He would have rebutted this, but a Hufflepuff boy came over to the Slytherin table then. Tommy recognised him for a muggle-born. He had Scout badges pinned to his Hogwarts robes.

"You're Davies, aren't you? You knew Maisie Gardner, didn't you?" the boy said. He offered his hand, so Tommy shook it. The boy's hand felt dry and cold as snakeskin.

"Tommy Davies-Maldonado. I do know Maisie…knew her?" Tommy said. Behind the boy's eyes, the reason he used past tense. "She's…dead?"

"I'm George Huddleston. Maisie is dead. She was killed by a Gerry bomb. I heard it on the train," Huddleston said. Nausea choked the words and questions out of Tommy's throat. Tommy swallowed hard, but it wasn't enough to help. He grabbed a goblet of water and swigged it.

"She can't be. How'd they know?" he asked after.

"Her cousins got a telegram about it, and one of them's here too."

"I…" Tommy stopped short of saying anything. There wasn't anything to be said, after all. George Huddleston returned to the Hufflepuff table and Tommy sat down, weak-kneed.

This was completely different from Fitzgerald's murder. Lord Fitzgerald had been an Irish terrorist, and his criminal past had caught up to him in the end. Even the ghost Montgomery was already dead and nothing Tommy did or thought could change that. Tommy'd never lost anyone this way, to a war she'd been too young to be involved in.

"Are you going to be alright, Tommy?" Alfie cooed, a warm soft hand on Tommy's neck. For a heartbeat, nausea continued to choke him, but Tommy drew some kindness out of Alfie's touch and felt better.

* * *

><p>The last letter from mum arrived on the last Hogsmeade weekend of the year. Tommy collected it from the post office in the village and tore it open at once.<p>

She refused to bring Tommy home for Christmas. Martin and Daniel had joined Owen and Lottie Owens at Crossfields, where Grandmother had filled an entire wing with evacuees.

"They're bombing Cardiff practically every night," Mum wrote. "And even if they've left London, they want to destroy our shipyards and coal supplies."

"My parents don't want us home either, they said a bomb bounced off our shield charms and hit the other side of the street. Mother almost felt sorry for the muggles then," Alfie said.

Tommy knew this was supposed to console him, but Christmas at Hogwarts wouldn't be the same as Christmas at Crossfields. Papa stopped adding postscripts, even when Tommy begged for them.

"That's horrid. What if that was the bomb that killed Maisie?" Tommy snapped. Alfie'd turned pale. Tommy missed his dimples immediately.

"It's not our fault the war isn't over," Alfie said, too stricken to sound cross. Tommy shrugged and drew himself into the sweater Aunt Marie had knit for him, away from Alfie and his soothing dimples.

"If there was something I could do, I would! What's the point of having magic if we can't do anything?" he said.

Professor Dumbledore had been strolling by where they shared a bench, but he drew up at Tommy's outburst.

"Davies? I hope the war hasn't affected anyone at home," he said. He sounded coolly polite, as a teacher should, but Tommy hated him for it.

"No. Only my papa's a military doctor and my uncle's in the Home Guard and we have about fifty evacuees at Grandmother's. But the war isn't affecting _me_," he said.

Dumbledore shook his head, pretending regret.

"Five points from Slytherin for cheek, Davies. You muggle-borns must remember we're all aware that there's a war on," Dumbledore didn't finish the old chant, but Tommy heard it and wanted to curse. Alfie's mouth dangled open.

Once Dumbledore had continued up the Hogsmeade high street, Alfie rounded on Tommy.

"Did he just call you a moron? And then deducted _us_ points? The nerve of that…that…mudblood!"

"Let's go back to the castle. We need to figure out how to stop this war," Tommy said. As they entered the castle, Alfie pointed out a sprig of mistletoe. No one was around, but he'd started giggling as he always did at the thought of kissing.

Tommy watched the dimples winking in Alfie's pink cheeks, the way his curly hair fell over his soft eyes. He leaned forward and kissed one of those sweet dimples, just as as naturally as he kissed mum or Liz.

"Kissing cousins," Tommy said, in response to Alfie's shocked silence.

* * *

><p>No amount of stolen kisses or shared chocolate frogs could make up for Christmas at home. They didn't sing carols in Welsh and there wasn't a piano Tommy could play, certainly no wireless or Christmas broadcasts.<p>

Tommy ate less at the Christmas feast than he thought he would. Every time a joint of roast passed down the table, he wondered why wizards didn't ration things like they did at home. Alfie usually ate enough for both of them.

"Liz said to keep you from looking too peaky," Alfie said, taking a pocketful of eclairs away from the table on New Year's Day.

"So what? She's stuck eating rations," Tommy said. He felt like a churl for ignoring Alfie, but as mum and papa had ignored his birthday, he also felt justified in a bout of sour humour.

"You're just sore because your presents are late in the post," Alfie said. He bit an eclair in half and, pulling Tommy into an alcove, pushed the other half into his mouth.

Tommy swallowed the gluey, tasteless mass to keep Alfie smiling. Once they reached the common room, he proceeded to build up a wall of books and homework. Alfie left him for a game of exploding snap with Cyggy, Cuthbert and Orion.

The telegram came to him by post owl on January 3rd. They must have got it from the muggle post office in nearby Duffield. Tommy stared at the yellow, official envelope for a long time.

"Tommy…Tommy…" Alfie kept whispering.

It took centuries for Tommy to gather back all his wits, to pick up the envelope and slice it open with his butter knife.

"Don't read it," Alfie said at once, as if that would make it untrue. Tommy ignored him.

"Tommyknocker, so very sorry. Auntie Gwen and Uncle Aneirin killed by bomb in Cardiff. Funeral arrangements being organized by Dowager Lady Edmondes. Will send for you. Be brave, be strong. Love, always, Liz."

* * *

><p><strong>My dates are one week off according to RL Blitzkrieg. But what's one week? <strong>


	9. Winter Term to Spring Term 1941

Tommy didn't hear the consolations from Professors Slughorn and Dippett. A piercing ringing filled his ears, punctuated by his thudding heartbeat.

"…And in these dangerous times it is essential we work to ensure the safety of our students. Naturally if there is anything we can do…" Professor Dippett's voice drifted in and out of focus, just like a faint wireless transmission.

"…We're also here, should you need anything. You're young yet to be making your way alone in the world…" Professor Slughorn sounded grave.

Tommy had nothing to ask of them. There was no magic to bring his parents back. The school governors had forbidden him to leave the safety of the castle for the daily and nightly bombings in the south. Not even for the funerals.

Tommy knew he couldn't be the only student suddenly without a family to return to. Yet, the school's lack of action struck him as both callous and ominous. They couldn't keep all the orphaned muggle-borns here, could they?

Tommy didn't bother speaking once he'd been released from Dippett's office. He still held the telegram limply in his hand. Alfie met him at the bottom of the staircase leading up to Dippett's office.

"Oh Tommy," he murmured.

"Don't. There's nothing you can say anyway," Tommy said.

He didn't mean to sound cruel, but there wasn't anything he wanted to hear. Alfie seized Tommy's hand, which Tommy didn't protest. They began back down the great marble staircase in silence. In the entrance hall, Alfie started for the dungeons, but Tommy dug his heels in.

"No. I don't want to go back down there. It's horrid. There are no windows! There's no sunshine!"

Alfie sighed and looked over Tommy's shoulder at the front doors.

"There isn't any sunshine outside right now, either. You'll freeze to death," he said. Tommy pushed him away.

"Just leave me alone. My parents are dead. Marvolo Gaunt is dead. My birth mother is dead. I wish I were dead," Tommy said. Alfie took a step back, but he seemed to steel himself.

"We're going to tellyphone that Liz. She'll make you see sense," Alfie said. Then, before Tommy could scoff this idiotic idea, Alfie seized him again. He dragged Tommy back upstairs by a shortcut, until they met Slughorn just outside his office.

"Sir, you have to help Tommy tellyphone his family."

Slughorn didn't look surprised to see Tommy again, nor did he comment on Tommy and Alfie's clasped hands.

"Only natural that you'd want to contact your loved ones at a time like this," Slughorn said. He ushered them into his office and pointed to two of the chairs before the fire. Alfie waited for Tommy to lower himself into a seat before sinking into the one opposite.

"Now, Davies, we don't have any tellyphones here, but I think you know how to use floo powder." Slughorn gestured at the crackling fire and the ornate gilt box on the mantle. Tommy nodded, glaring at Alfie for putting him in this spot.

"Well now, we'll leave you alone. Come along, Black. I've been meaning to talk to you about your potions work last semester," Slughorn said. He and Alfie exited the office, Alfie giving Tommy one last longing look over his shoulder.

Once the door closed, Tommy leapt up. He grabbed the floo powder box and steadied its weight in his palm. There had to be a place ghosts came from, for the castle was full of them. If only his parents were among the castle dead. Tommy sat down on the hearthrug and finally released one long, painful keen.

"Oh! Mum! Papa!"

He sank down to the floor, pressing his face to the hot stone, letting his tears burn up in the heat.

"Mum! Papa! Papa! Papa!"

The smell of burning wood and his own singed hair washed over him. This must have been what his parents felt, when they died. They'd been killed by a bomb. Tommy'd seen a newsreel of bombings. They burned and broke people. The heat scorched the tears off his eyes and eyelashes, and dried each racking sob in his mouth. Tommy coughed on heat and anguish and sat up. He grabbed a fistful of floo powder and cast it into the flames.

"Lizzy! Lizzy McGillicuddy! Liz!"

The emerald flames flickered and whirled and Tommy knew Liz, wherever she was, would be on the other side. He stuck his head into the emerald whirlwind. The colours dissolved and reformed into one of the rooms at Crossfields. He knew it by the smell of the ancient wooden floors, the plump quilted counterpane on the bed.

"Lizzy?" he called. Instead of Lizzy's familiar face, an unfamiliar pair of great brown eyes appeared from under the bed.

"Sir? Young master?" Tomkin said, crawling out covered in dust bunnies.

"Tomkin, I need you to find Lizzy! I know she's probably…busy or…sad. But you have to! It's urgent!"

Tomkin looked ready to say something, but Tommy glared at him. He bowed and vanished before Tommy's eyes. A moment later, Lizzy opened the door, apparently being shunted along by an invisible force.

She said nothing for a few moments. She only looked into Tommy and through him. At last, she swayed on her feet and closed her eyes.

Tommy'd never seen her faint before and it drove him to call out,

"Liz!"

Liz swooned and staggered to the fire, but his voice reached her. She slid to the floor and looked at him out of red-rimmed eyes.

"Tommyknocker. Can you believe it? Before the war I would have thought your head in the fireplace was the most unbelievable thing I'd seen…" Her words caught in her throat.

Tommy wouldn't choke now.

"I'm coming home somehow. I want to be with you and Grandmother. I want to be home."

"We'll get you home," Liz said, her voice stronger now.

"I'll find a way. Please don't…not without me…."

* * *

><p>Professor Dippett refused to release Tommy for the funerals. It seemed the <em>Daily Prophet <em>had gotten around to mentioning the Blitzing of London and Cardiff. There was even a list of the dead.

"The destruction these muggles are capable of," Dippett whispered. The _Prophet_'s byline these days compared Grindelwald to Hitler. Tommy'd stopped reading the _Prophet_ after that. By the time anyone magical realized the danger, the world would be in rubble. And meanwhile all the wizards cared about was the cancelled World Cup of Quidditch!

"Sir, my parents funeral, they want me home. My grandmother is Lady Edmondes. You can't keep me here," Tommy said. Dippett spread his tiny hands over his vast desk.

"Davies, we'd be sending you into a very uncertain place right now. The best thing for our students is to remain here until these bombings end. We have your best interests at heart. Your parents would understand that," Dippett said.

The words rained down just like bombs.

"They thought that was a load of tosh!" he said. His wand tip flared to life, burning a hole in the carpet. Professor Dippett went white.

"Davies, you're out of line. I know this is a difficult time for you, but losing your temper," he paused to cluck his tongue, "Twenty points from Slytherin. Please, Davies, we'll make arrangements for you to return in the summer, if it is safe."

Tommy stormed out, slamming the door and cursing on the stair. Alfie wasn't waiting this time and the absence of his warm hand and soft smile hollowed out Tommy's anger.

Tommy stalked away from the office, empty with loss.

"They can't keep me here," he said aloud. No one could hear him, there were no students at this time of day, so close to curfew. Tommy marched passed the entrance to the astronomy tower. For a brief moment he imagined hurling himself off. He'd fly, be weightless. Then, the sudden, bitter end.

"Mum! Papa!"

Calling for them, the words were knives in his mouth. He cried and walked blindly, his fingers tracing along the stonework. The only part of his body he wanted to feel was his hand against the stone. "Mum…papa…" It hurt each time to call them, but he wouldn't stop. "Papa…mum…"

His hand found a door. Tommy paused, wiped his eyes. He'd come around to the teacher's wing. There weren't classes here, not that he remembered. He looked at the door and a giddy sickness filled his belly. Slughorn's office, with floo powder for him to escape with. He didn't stop to consider the consequences of drawing his wand.

"Alohomora."

He'd found the unlocking spell in an advanced Charms text. Slughorn's office looked plush and cosy, but with no comfort beneath the luxury. Tommy went to the fireplace and the floo powder. He took a pinch and one deep breath.

He had to know. If they were dead, they wouldn't be home. They'd be gone.

"8 Eastgate, Cowbridge, Glamorgan Vale, Wales," he whispered into the swirling emerald fire. He felt no change as he stepped into the flames. They spun him into a vortex of emerald and sickness and purple light. Tommy had to close his eyes, and didn't open them after he'd stopped spinning. He could be anywhere.

Tommy needed a deep breath before he opened his eyes. His parents' bedroom looked just the same as always, with nothing out of place. They might have just stepped out to go visiting, to the theatre or the symphony.

Except for the faint scent.

Tommy knew his mother's perfume, even when mixed with the spicy cigarillos papa preferred. Under normal circumstances, Tommy didn't go into his parents' bedroom and he never pried in their things. But, he had to know if that scent came from somewhere outside memory. He reached for his mother's wardrobe and opened the door.

Her perfume flooded out, the ghost of her, the parties and recitals. Her laughter. Her voice. Hanging in the wardrobe were all her dresses, more than Tommy remembered her wearing in life.

He ran a hand over the dresses and blouses. They weren't warm like mum, but the last wisps of her perfume still clung to the silks and furs. Tommy pressed a sleeve to his face, drying his tears because mum wasn't around any more to do it.

Tommy went next to the chest of drawers. His papa's dress shirts, neatly pressed and folded. Papa was always perfectly tidy. A drawer for his ties and collars and socks. There were old postcards tucked between the shirts and old toys hiding beneath socks. At the very bottom of the last he found papa's school uniform for Brackenwood Hall, wrapped in papers, hidden in a box labelled "old things".

Tommy's Hogwarts robes pressed so heavy they threatened to smother him. Papa had wanted Tommy to go to Brackenwood Hall, where he and Uncle Stig had left their last happy memories. Tommy didn't put up a struggle. He pulled off his Hogwarts robes and slipped into his papa's old woolen jacket. He even found the old school tie and cap and added that. When he looked in the mirror, he looked like any other mundane boy. He didn't look at all like his papa.

There were two writings desks to hold all his parents' papers: a rolltop for mum and a handsome mahogany for papa. Tommy found stacks of letters, whole lifetimes trapped in paper and ink. His parents letters to each other, to Grandmother, to their school friends and old sweethearts. Tommy even found an old Valentine pressed with roses, a love-knot of dark hair curled inside. He would have mistaken it for his mother's but that the hair smelled of Bay Rum cologne.

There were photographs as well, many of them before Tommy'd been born. Many of them at first alien, strange. The beautiful young girl in Japanese robes, her face painted white, her hair under a bejeweled wig, turned out to be his mother when she'd performed in _The Mikado. _A box of silver and gold medals belonged to Aneirin Davies-Maldonado, junior fencing champion of England, all of them dated between 1908 and 1912.

"I'm coming back for you," Tommy whispered to the photograph of his parents' first Christmas together. Mum perched on a ladder, pretending to place the angel on the tree. Papa laughed up at her, reaching a steadying hand to her back. They looked the same age as Tommy.

* * *

><p>"You know if you get caught you'll be expelled. They'll take your wand," Alfie said.<p>

Tommy had another handful of floo powder. He'd floo into Hogsmeade's inn and then walk away. Who cared if he was expelled? His parents weren't alive to care. Grandmother wanted him home.

"I don't care," Tommy said, to keep Alfie from fretting more.

"You will when they chuck you in Azkaban for breaching the Statute."

Tommy sighed.

"Fine. I'll come back in September. I can't stay, Alfie. I haven't even said goodbye to them."

"You'd better come back!" And Alfie pouted to make his point. "I'll tell Slughorn you stole the floo powder if you don't!"

"And get me in trouble?" Tommy said, smirking when Alfie looked even more put out.

"You just come back, Tommy Davies-Maldonado!"


	10. Summer Break 1941

Tommy walked down a green springtime lane away from Hogsmeade. No one in the village had stopped him, and he wore his papa's Brackenwood Hall uniform rather than Hogwarts robes. After all his months of planning it was a shock everything came so easily. He'd packed the two-way mirror, his wand and some clothes. Alfie had his instructions, he wouldn't check in again until nightfall.

At the crossroads all the signposts had been painted out, but Alec promised he'd find him no matter where he was. Tommy sat down on a style and sure enough a snake found him first. While he twined it between his fingers, he waited. He'd wait until the war ended, or the world crumbled around him. Instead he only had to wait until a motor roared along the lane in the distance. A motorcycle rider came into view.

Alec drew to a halt in front of Tommy and pulled off his goggles, a cheeky grin flashing.

"Weren't expecting the motorbike, where you, old man?" Alec said.

"You're certain you won't be missed?" Tommy said. Alec shrugged under his aviator's jacket.

"Told you, I'm on leave. I'm supposed to have injuries."

Tommy stood up and approached the beautiful motorbike, with a headlamp glittering like crystal and suggestive curves to protect the innards. Tommy walked all the way around it and came to a halt in front of the handlebars.

"There's no sidecar."

"Well," Alec looked rakish at this, "usually I ride with a 'gel'. Wouldn't want to ruin the moment, would I?"

Tommy made a face, certain that Alec only had one 'gel' on his mind.

"I'm going to look a right prat holding on to you," Tommy said. Alec shrugged eloquently and tossed Tommy a spare helmet.

"You can walk, old man, do you good. Put the roses back in your cheeks."

Tommy would normally smack someone for this, but Alec was older and stronger. He jammed the helmet on and climbed up behind Alec. Before Alec kicked off, Tommy said,

"Did Liz tell you how to find me?"

"She did. Said your school was just outside Duffield. I didn't know there were schools up here."

"It's very exclusive," Tommy said. Alec laughed and kicked the motor to life.

They roared along country roads without interruption, the landscape losing the wild, heather-grown look of Scotland as they headed south. They seemed to be avoiding towns, at least until they came to a checkpoint well over the border in England.

Alec came gently to a halt and whispered at Tommy before dismounting,

"Keep your head down. I'm on leave but you don't have an evacuee card or ID number. Just let me talk."

Tommy nodded. Alec grinned, dimpled and roguish, before walking over to the soldiers.

"Sir, can we have some ID please," one said. Once Alec showed his papers, both the men saluted him. "Captain Montgomery, sir!"

"Right. I'm just bringing my cousin home," Alec then gestured at Tommy. The soldiers glanced at him. "He's being evacuated to Canada."

"Better safe than here," the second soldier said.

They waved them through the checkpoint. Once on the other side, Alec pulled over to check his fuel. Tommy watched him.

"You never said you'd been made captain."

Alec stiffened at the words, but he remounted with his usual smile.

"My father was also Captain Montgomery," he said.

Tommy clung to Alec's back. Alec's emotions didn't boil up on the surface, but Tommy felt them all the same, just underneath the smiles and casual air. When they finally stopped for petrol, Tommy had to be shaken loose.

"You're not afraid of my driving, are you?" Alec laughed as he said it, paying for more petrol than what ration cards allowed.

"Isn't that illegal?" Tommy whispered. Alec shook out his curly hair, much the way Alfie did, and handed Tommy a sandwich. They wheeled the motorcycle off to the side and sat.

"Nonsense. I saved these for this trip. I had a feeling we'd need it, you and I. Hope you don't mind but we won't be making London tonight. It hasn't been as bad as last summer, but there are more checkpoints, and I won't be explaining my leave every time. We'll stay with the DeLacys. You're familiar with them. They've removed from London and they're willing to put us up the night, Tommyknocker."

Tommy shuddered and pulled a face. Alec laughed.

"I'd rather kip outside. I suppose you'll tell me it's dangerous?" Tommy said, while Alec sniggered into his sandwich.

"Not if you want to. I would prefer it myself, but as I understand it the DeLacys have a pretty daughter and are hoping she'll pair off with one of us. Probably you, old man. You're the young turk now."

Tommy continued to pull his face into wrinkles, simply to hear some laughter. Once they'd finished eating, Tommy helped Alec stand the motorbike up. As he did, he noticed Alec moving stiffly.

"You are on leave, aren't you?" Tommy said. Alec wasn't looking at him.

"Aye. Indefinite leave. I was shot down, Tommy. Got the casts off last week. The best part was Liz proposing to me in the hospital. She's a firebrand."

When Alec turned around he had the wistful look all the romantic leads had in the movies, save this one seemed genuine.

"You're going to go back, aren't you?" Tommy politely ignored Alec's sighs and tender looks into the distance.

"Hope to. Hopefully all this shrapnel doesn't put me over the weight limit." And with this startling comment, Alec threw his leg over the bike and pulled Tommy on behind. Tommy didn't cling as hard as before, until they hit a pothole, and then it was for dear life.

They arrived at the DeLacys' country manor just shy of nightfall. With the blackout still in place, the manor looked deserted.

The doors were thrown open by the DeLacys' sour old butler, Fischer. He glowered at Tommy, even in the face of Alec's most charming smile.

"Hullo Fischer, I know his nibs is expecting us," Alec said.

"Captain Montgomery. Thomas," Fischer said, shooting Tommy a poisonous look.

Every time Tommy visited the DeLacys, old Fischer caught him at something he shouldn't be doing, whether it was listening to the wireless at midnight or sneaking biscuits from the pantry.

"Fischer, if you continue to let my guests linger on the stoop I shall ship you off to that alien internment camp that so wants you," Baron DeLacy's oily voice wafted out to them. Fischer scowled and bowed like the hunchback in a vampire movie. Alec swaggered in, Tommy in his wake.

The DeLacys' manor had felt the effects of the war just as Grandmother's Crossfields had. There were blackout curtains at the mullioned windows, and many of the precious curios Tommy remembered seemed to have been locked away. Baron DeLacy looked much the same, however, as he opened his arms to Alec: thin as a weasel with the eerie porcelain face of a Victorian doll.

"You're your father's son, Alexander," Baron DeLacy murmured up at Alec, after they'd embraced and shook hands. Tommy knew what effect this would have and so wasn't surprised when Alec nodded jerkily and took a step back.

Now it was Tommy's turn. "Thomas, you poor boy. You're far too young for such a wretched thing to happen," Baron DeLacy added, taking both Tommy's hands in his cold, dry ones. Tommy had to catch back a sob, but he nodded as well. Baron DeLacy led them both to the small drawing room.

Even here the war had left marks. The tapestries were gone and many more cheap chairs had been crammed into the room. Tommy and Alec both looked around at this uncomfortable change, while Baron DeLacy smiled a sour little smile.

"The army is using the manor as the local headquarters," Baron DeLacy said. No sooner had the words left his mouth than a man burst into the room.

He could only be a soldier. He was even taller than Alec and both broader in the shoulder and paunchier. His uniform was a muddy khaki, with a rainbow line of medals over his heart.

"DeLacy, you didn't say you'd be having guests," the man barked. Alec caught Tommy's eye, the shadow of a grin playing around his mouth. It was clear by the frostiness around the baron that he hated being called 'DeLacy'.

"Captain Montgomery and young Thomas are friends of the family, sir. Are you suggesting I'd invite a few Germans into my house for clandestine suppers?" Baron DeLacy said. The man, who was clearly a general, went red from his forehead to his neck and swelled up in anger.

"In these times, we have to take every precaution. Captain Montgomery would understand," the general jerked his chin at Alec.

Alec removed his jacket slowly before tossing his papers to the man. The general grunted and threw them back as if bowling a cricket ball. "These are in order. You're on medical leave?"

"I am," Alec said, his tone cool and his posture erect.

"And you'll be returning to active duty soon?"

"I most assuredly will," Alec said.

The general seemed satisfied at last.

"I imagine you'll both be going to bed?" he said, making it very clear he expected Tommy and Alec out from underfoot. Alec shrugged and put a hand on Tommy's shoulder.

"Might have a last cigarette before turning in," he said, also lifting his chin at the general. The man smirked and waved them off as he headed for the door.

"Right, sure you will," he said, fishing around in his pockets. He pulled out a packet of something and tossed it at Tommy. "Here you are."

"What is it?" Tommy turned the little packet over and over in his hands, certain this was a joke or test.

"Sweets. They're rationing them now, boy."

Wizards didn't have rationing, and Alfie promised to send Tommy chocolate frogs and peppermint toads the moment he went to Honeydukes in Hogsmeade.

"Er, thank you, sir," Tommy said, smiling at him. The man returned it with the first genuinely happy smile Tommy'd seen all day.

"Never met a boy your age this polite," he said, and muttering more in this vein, left the room to Tommy, Alec and Baron DeLacy.

DeLacy gave a genteel cough, very much as though he longed to insult the departed general. Apart from the man's loud manner, Tommy didn't mind him half so much. Apparently, neither did Alec.

"That wasn't as bad as I thought," Alec said, thumbing over his shoulder at the door. Tommy nodded.

"Sweets. Wizard. I haven't had any in ages."

DeLacy laughed and indicated they should sit at the table.

"Make yourselves comfortable. There's still some tea and even some meat. The army have brought their food with them. Goodness knows they eat like…" DeLacy coughed again. "I'll have Fischer bring your supper. Alec, you understand our soldiers won't appreciate you wandering about while they have their meetings. The telephone, the dining room and my," DeLacy sniffed, "office are out of bounds. Even to me. Let's not upset the men with unnecessary arguments."

"Sounds just fine," Alec said, hesitating. Baron DeLacy smiled.

"Francis, Alexander, just Francis. God knows, your father…" DeLacy took a careful breath and smiled once more. Alec's face went blank, but Tommy, sitting beside him, felt anger radiating from him. "I'll let you two relax," DeLacy finished, gliding out.

Alec shook his fist at the door.

"He's the oiliest little eel I've ever met! My father couldn't have got on with him at school, father hated limp-wristed little pansies like that," Alec said. He reeled himself in and fixed Tommy with a gentle look. Tommy shifted away from him, in case he had another burst of temper.

"Papa never liked DeLacy much either," Tommy said. Alec's soft look deepened, so that Tommy couldn't meet his eye.

He shifted in his seat, hoping Fischer would hurry up with their supper. Alec took a deep breath, and put his hand on Tommy's shoulder, so that Tommy stopped squirming.

"Your papa was good man, and your mother was a lovely lady. I know you'll always miss them. I know there won't be anything we can do to bring them back, but," Alec's voice caught a moment. Tommy tried swallowing, but a lump rose in his throat, his eyes smarted. "But you still have Lizzy, and your grandmother, and me, if you like. Me and Liz, when we're married, we'd be happy to have you 'round, Tommy. You can see our castle at last."

"Right," Tommy said. It was all he could manage without crying. They ate in silence, real white bread with actual butter and one slice of ham each, leftovers of the officers' earlier supper. Fischer then showed them to their rooms, which shared an adjoining bathroom.

"I'll get you up early?" Alec said.

Tommy nodded, yawning and not caring.

* * *

><p>Alec did wake him early. The world outside had only just started to rise with the sun.<p>

"Sorry, old man, relic of training," Alec said, with a very smart-alecky grin. He went into their shared bathroom and locked the door. Very soon steam poured from under the door, along with Alec's brazen singing: "_The very thought of you and I forget to do the little orrrrrrdinary things that everyone ought to doooooooo…_"

Since Alec sounded like he'd be busy a while, Tommy fished around for the two-way mirror and hissed,

"Alfie! Alphard Black!"

Alfie swore he'd keep the mirror under his pillow and didn't disappoint.

"Tommy, you dirty dog, running off and having adventures without me!"

Tommy missed Alfie's pretty dimples more than he cared to admit. Even at the crack of dawn his eyes glittered and his cheeks were pink.

"Shut it! Have the teachers said anything?"

"Well, I covered for you on Sunday, but Slughorn knew something was up. He says he'll go to Dippett today and make him see sense. But he also said if you do anything rash, like join the muggle war, you'll be expelled."

Tommy rolled his eyes.

"Do you think he means it?" he said.

Alfie wrinkled his nose.

"Not a chance. Slughorn wants in on this Gaunt mystery. He asked _me_ about it, as if you'd turned up on my family tapestry."

"Tell him I'll be getting to the bottom of it myself. And he's to keep Dumbledore's crooked nose out of it this time!"

Alfie sighed dramatically just as the water turned off in the bathroom.

"If you think I'm getting expelled because of you, dirty dog, you have another thing coming. You'll tell me the moment you find out more, won't you?" Alfie said.

"'Course I will," Tommy replied.

They gazed at each other a moment. Tommy felt words bubbling up behind his lips, so many words he didn't know which ones to use. It seemed Alfie felt the same, for he'd rarely stayed so quiet so long. It was only Alec calling that broke the silence,

"Oi, old man! There may be just enough hot water for you! They dress for breakfast around here!"

Alfie's scowl made Tommy laugh.

"If he wasn't engaged to your precious Liz, I'd hate him. He's so handsome it's criminal."

"Away with you," Tommy said, trying and failing to imitate Alec's genial burr. Alfie's face shifted round to a patronizing little smirk.

"That's just too precious, Tommyknocker."

"Shut up, Rigel."

Tommy closed the lid on Alfie's pretty winking dimples and went to shower. Alec hadn't left him any hot water at all.

As he headed down to the small drawing room for breakfast, DeLacy wafted out of his bedrooms and took Tommy by the arm.

"Now, Thomas, before you go down to eat there's something I feel I must tell you. Lord knows your parents would have brought it up had they…"

Tommy wanted to pushed odious little DeLacy away, call him out for all this pretend sympathy. However, when he met DeLacy's gaze he saw through the facade. Beneath the pinched little mouth and aristocratic reserve, hid a little boy who'd spent too many years alone at a piano, at lessons, at decorum. A little boy who'd given up making friends when gentility dictated he had only subjects and servants, peers and rivals. A little boy who'd once counted Tommy's papa as a dear friend indeed.

"Um, I suppose they would." Tommy drifted into uncertain waters now. Baron DeLacy put a hand on his shoulder and led him to his study.

Unlike the rest of DeLacy's house, the Baron hid all his personality here. There was a modern wireless and gramophone with stacks of popular records, a private telephone, colour photographs of his daughter and wife at ladylike pursuits.

Tommy took a seat opposite DeLacy before the delicate gilt fireplace.

"Well, this is awkward. I'm not sure where to begin, Thomas," DeLacy said, making every show of meaning it, although Tommy saw the secret plainly behind his eyes.

"I already know I'm adopted, sir. They told me when I started at school."

DeLacy appeared taken aback. He recovered quickly, but not before Tommy caught an echo of disdain and shock.

"Well, you understand, these are delicate matters. Your parents were in a bind when they adopted you. Did they tell you that, did they mention?"

Tommy shivered.

"No. Tell me what?"

Baron DeLacy stood up and went to his finely-carved desk. He shuffled through several drawers before coming up with a small envelope. He handed it to Tommy with an air of distaste.

"It was only that I noticed these and the timing seemed rather…convenient."

Tommy found old newspaper cuttings. From the year before he was born, a social column on the runaway marriage of "Thomas Riddle esq., of Little Hangleton and his wife, Merope Gaunt". Six months later the gossip reporter wrote: "Thomas Riddle esq., of Little Hangleton, annuls marriage amidst rumours of marital impropriety."

"What does that mean, marital impropriety?" Tommy whispered. His stomach turned flips. Baron DeLacy touched Tommy's shoulder again, and for once his cold hands had warmth.

"It means that you were an unexpected surprise for your mother. I heard she died in childbed."

He was an excellent liar, his mask-like face practiced at deceiving social climbers and peers alike. Tommy only caught the truth of it by meeting the baron's gaze directly, and then it was only a flash, brief and almost incomprehensible.

"He abandoned her. He didn't want me, he disowned me. That's what you mean."

Anger filled his belly till he wanted to be sick with it. Baron DeLacy withdrew as though expecting Tommy to attack him.

"It means, yes, it does."

"Is Thomas Riddle alive?" Tommy said. He felt the papers burning in his hand and flung them aside. They fluttered to the floor, the edges already curling with fire.

"He…is. He remarried. Still lives in Little Hangleton, I believe," Baron DeLacy said. Tommy swallowed hard, putting a lid on that boiling anger.

"You believe? Don't you know?"

DeLacy was the type to know every sordid affair for miles. He too swallowed, delicately, and tried to fix Tommy with a reasonable, placating look.

"As a matter of fact I find the Riddles vulgar. Only two generations removed from their tawdry little _business_ and they act like gentry. Lavinia and I have no time for pretenders, no matter how rich," DeLacy said. Tommy rolled his eyes.

"Fine. I'll go see this man myself." He stormed to the door but turned back. "You aren't going to stop me?" Tommy said, daring the baron to try.

DeLacy shook his head and smiled a crocodile's smile.

"In point of fact, Thomas, I think a rapist who runs off with impoverished scullery maids only to abandon them when it becomes inconvenient is in need of a good thumping."

Tommy grinned too, he felt it slash his face open with malice for Thomas Riddle esquire.

"Right. Where is Little Hangleton?"

"Somewhere in Lancashire. You'll be taking Alexander with you?" Baron DeLacy's mask slipped just enough to raise an eyebrow.

"I will."

"I'll find you some petrol rations then," DeLacy said, all at once brisk.

* * *

><p>By noon, the baron had furnished them not only with his petrol rations, but a packed tea and a road map. Alec accepted this all graciously, with only one questioning look at Tommy. Tommy waited until they were on the road to explain himself. They had tea off the road under a patch of trees somewhere in Derbyshire, they weren't certain where. However, Alec brazened it out that he knew enough about maps to make headway.<p>

Alec dozed in the shade while Tommy watched the sky. Sometimes a patrol flew overhead, but the early heat and crisp blue sky were otherwise undisturbed.

Tommy played with the two-way mirror, yearning for Alfie in a way he wasn't yet ready to face. Alec would understand. He was probably dreaming of Liz and their wedding.

"You ready to press on, old man?" Alec spoke softly, causing Tommy to turn around. Alec remained sprawled in the shade. The shadows playing over his face gave him a haunted look.

"Alec, why are you helping me?"

Alec's voice remained soft, his eyes clouded.

"We're a lot alike, you and I. We both lost someone to war. And I think neither of us want to lose anyone else."

Tommy ached for mum and papa now, ached for somewhere safe and warm to cry. He could ask Alec to hold him, but he didn't know how to voice such a personal need. Alec sat up without bidding and placed a hand on Tommy's shoulder. Alec's touch was warm. It would have to suffice.

"We're not that alike, Alec. I've never told you, I haven't told anyone except Alfie. I'm adopted."

Alec's hand remained, steadfast, on his shoulder.

"Adopted? Doctor and Lady Davies adopted you?"

Tommy sniffed and hid it by again trying to copy Alec's accent.

"Aye."

Alec burst out laughing and took Tommy up in a bear hug, much as his mum or papa might have.

"You're the very devil, as my auntie used to say, Tommyknocker!"

Tommy gasped and relaxed into the hug, as welcome as it was unexpected.

"You mean, it doesn't matter if I'm adopted? It won't matter to you and Lizzy? I haven't told her yet, not properly. She already knows all my secrets I probably don't have to," he said. Alec laughed and released him slowly.

"Oh, you'd lie to my bride? You don't have to worry about Liz, we'll tell her together. So tell me, are we off on a hunt for your birth parents, perhaps?" Alec said, his grin infectious enough to cover the obvious tears. Tommy managed to return it honestly.

"We are. In Little Hangleton."


	11. Little Hangleton 1941

**Trigger Warning: Language and Unfortunate Implications. Thanks, Marvolo.**

* * *

><p>They were directed off the main road in Great Hangleton and told to follow the nearby river into the valley.<p>

"You can't miss it," the man at the petrol station said. A few of the other workers milling around found Alec, tall, dashing and wearing his air service uniform, a source of speculation.

"Thank you, and," Alec tipped the man a wink, "you wouldn't know if there's a family Riddle living there?"

The petrol station worker gave a very sage nod.

"They own the mills. Where do you think all the khaki you wear comes from?" he said.

Alec thanked the man and they continued.

Gentle rolling hills cradled the village of Little Hangleton. Unlike Greater Hangleton, which reeked of its factories and mills, the village had the storybook look of a place untouched by the war.

As they rolled down the high street, Tommy noticed the war memorial and the patriotic banners hanging from the shops. They pulled up outside the village pub and dismounted to frank staring from the two old men smoking out front.

"I'm nipping in for something, old man. You know where you're going?" Alec murmured.

Tommy looked into Alec's face, finding more than a cheeky grin, finding the same darkness that had left papa's eyes so empty.

"I'll be alright," Tommy replied, blinking because it hurt too much to think about papa.

Alec ruffled his hair the way mum used to. Tommy kept his eyes closed and forced out a smile.

"You'll be fine. You'll come fetch me. I won't leave without you," Alec said.

"I will," Tommy said.

Alec finally smiled one of his usual bright shining smiles and strolled into the pub, doffing his cap to the two staring men. Tommy avoided looking at them, instead slipping his arms through his pack and marching to the war memorial. There were no Riddles or Gaunts on it, but that meant very little. Tommy didn't expect wizards to fight in muggle wars, not if they felt the same then as now. There were wreaths and little flags scattered below the memorial. Tommy wanted to leave something here, for his mum and papa, for Alec's father, for Maisie. As he rubbed his eyes dry on the wool sleeves of papa's Brackenwood uniform, someone shouted,

"You there! You boy!"

Tommy flinched. He turned around and found a woman standing just outside the tea shop. She actually gasped when Tommy faced her, and then crossed herself.

"Were you calling me?" Tommy said, ignoring the way the woman flinched. He stepped down from the memorial and approached the tea shop. The woman tried to back away and bumped the sign outside that said "For British Citizens Only".

"I, no, I just," she looked around him and over his head but never at him, "I thought you were someone I knew," she said, now looking at the ground rather than Tommy.

"Who?" Tommy said, shivers creeping around his neck like throttling fingers.

The woman drew herself up and pulled her cardigan tight around her.

"Never you mind. This time of day you ought to be in school, or else with your host family."

Tommy steadied himself, shaking off the last of his tears, and looked at her. She gasped. Tommy saw the man in her mind, his face and suit and manner.

"You thought I was Thomas Riddle."

The woman shrank away from him and spoke as though Tommy's gaze drew the secrets out of her.

"You look terribly like him…but then that was years ago, unless," she gasped again and stared at Tommy, white as a sheet, "no! You're not…I heard she died!"

"My mother did die, she died having me," Tommy said. The words flooded his mouth with bitterness. He wanted to spit the bitter taste out, but he couldn't. Not here, not in this place. The woman crossed herself again.

"That poor child. She didn't have no one looking after her, them family was always a bit unnatural. You poor lad. You'd be, what, thirteen?"

"Fourteen, ma'am," Tommy said. Politeness might go some small way to softening the look of horrified pity and fascination in the woman's eyes.

"Just about the right age…" she whispered, again with the glassy look of someone drunk on secrets.

"Ma'am, if you please," Tommy said, willing her to at least trust him with that. "Could you tell me how to find Mr. Riddle? I need to speak with him. It's important. It's about my family."

The woman put her hands up and turned away.

"No. I don't want to be mixed up with the Riddles. No. You're on your own, boy," she said, before returning to her shop and changing the sign from "open" to "closed".

Tommy backed away before looking up and down the high street. Alec was still in the pub, and the two old men were gone. The high street ran right through the village and back up into the gentle hills. A great manor house, like Crossfields or the DeLacy home, stood on the lowest of the hills, its skirt of lawns emerald green in the afternoon sun. The Riddles owned mills, according to the man at the petrol station. They'd surely also own a great house.

Tommy began walking, aiming for the manor and never deviating. There were a few people out today, most of them women or old people. Many of them also stared at him, some openly and some out of the corner of their eyes. Tommy ignored them.

The gates before the manor stood open, but here at last Tommy paused. There were no guards, nor indeed anyone about on the lawns. Unlike Crossfields, which had become an evacuation home, and DeLacy House, where the army had pushed a baron out of his own office, the war left no marks here. Tommy couldn't even tell if the windows had been blacked out. He marched up the gravel drive before anyone had a chance to stop him, and banged on the knocker.

A butler answered, clearly prepared to sneer and turn Tommy away.

"Good afternoon," Tommy said, before the man had a chance to close the door. The butler stopped and blinked at Tommy. Then he took a step back.

"Young sir, the family isn't expecting guests at this time," he said.

Tommy raised his chin, as Alec had at the general, or mum used to when about to address someone she disliked.

"My name is Tommy Davies-Maldonado, and I think you'll find I have to speak to Mr. Riddle."

The butler sniffed and frowned. Tommy saw Mr. Riddle's face again behind the butler's eyes. He didn't bother hiding it, as the woman had done.

"Mr. Riddle is not at home to guests this day," the butler said.

Tommy glared back.

"Mr. Riddle is at home to Thomas Marvolo Riddle."

The butler flinched noticeably, but covered it by making to shut the door. Tommy jammed his foot inside.

"You know why I'm here, don't you?" Tommy said, glowering and keeping a lid on his boiling anger. "I can tell. You recognise who I am. I have a right to see that man. Or I shall tell everyone what he did to my mother."

Tommy wanted to be sick when the butler bowed deeply and opened the door, refusing to rise to meet Tommy's eyes as he crossed the threshold.

The entrance hall was bright with afternoon sunshine. Tommy heard a wireless playing "We'll Meet Again". The song carried with it a hint of perfume, mum's laughter while she played piano, papa nodding along but too shy to sing. Tommy closed his eyes. He wouldn't cry in this place.

"Wait here," the butler said, without so much as turning his face to Tommy.

He went through to the room where the music originated. Tommy heard two men speaking, then one voice rose over the other —

"-No! Damn it! Throw the boy out!"

Fear squirmed in Tommy's belly, but he buried that under anger and steadiness. Let the man rage. Tommy'd weathered far worse.

The butler returned. Tommy hadn't moved from where he'd been left, standing beneath a crystal chandelier.

"Mr. Riddle will not see you," the butler said, the barest tremble in his voice.

"Mr. Riddle is a dog who left me and my mother to die. You know what?" Tommy took half a step backward, "I've changed my mind. I don't want to see him!"

The doors nearest them were ripped open as Tommy raised his voice.

"I thought I told you to throw the boy out!"

Tommy swallowed hard, but nothing could stop the anger seething in his belly. The man glaring at him looked livid, but there was no denying that he had Tommy's face. They were almost identical, from their height to the way the man's hair parted the same way Tommy's did.

"Don't! Don't just throw me away!" Tommy said.

The man closed the doors behind him, but seemed unable to come closer than that. They stared into the boiling air between the other, Tommy panting, the man biting his lip hard.

"Get out of here, boy," the man said at last. He remained pale, until blood welled in the corner of his mouth.

"You can't tell me to leave," Tommy said.

As the man wiped the blood off, Tommy choked on nausea, as though he'd drawn that blood.

"If you don't leave I shall ring for the police," the man said, wiping his bloody chin with a handkerchief.

"You can't throw me out until you tell me why you left!"

The man snapped his fingers at the butler and then pointed at Tommy.

"Get him out of here, before Cecilia sees!" he said.

Tommy shoved the butler away when he tried to steer Tommy to the door.

"She's dead, you know! She's dead, my mother, your first wife," he said. The butler grabbed him by his collar but Tommy pulled himself free, hearing the fabric tear.

"Get out of here, damn you!" the man said, his face screwed up in rage.

"And my parents are dead! They died in the Blitz! They're dead, she's dead, but the only one I want dead is you!" Tommy shouted the last loud enough for the new Mrs. Riddle, wherever she was, to hear.

The butler grabbed Tommy round the middle and hurled him out the door. It slammed shut before Tommy could shout anything more.

"Damn you!" Tommy yelled at the unfeeling stone facade, "Damn you to hell, Thomas Riddle!"

Then he turned and ran down the drive. Let them call the police on him! He'd show them, he'd get Alec to help him!

Tommy ran away from the town, following a riding path that wound around the valley instead. He ran until his lungs were bursting for want of air and a stitch split his side in half.

He'd come to a fork in the path. The downward path sloped back into the village. The upward one clearly returned to Thomas Riddle's house. Tommy turned on the spot, gasping in air while his anger returned to a smolder.

After he'd spun around twice, he caught flickering in the corner of his eye.

There was a third path to this fork, pointing into a dell overgrown with rhododendron. Tommy took a step towards this third path, the pit of his stomach writhing. Like the sea cave, the air here had a charge to it quite apart from the green hedgerows on either side of him.

"Magic, in the air, all around me," Tommy said aloud.

An adder came to his call. Mum hated snakes, adders especially. She hated their glassy eyes and that they were poisonous.

"Magic," the adder said, "magic in the boy."

"My name's Tommy," he said, bending over and holding out his hand. The adder slithered up his arm, warm and almost pulsing with magic.

"The boy is Tommy. Tommy can speak," the adder said. Tommy smiled at it, hoping snakes weren't like dogs and didn't shy from smiles.

"Is there magic there, in those trees?" he pointed the snake in the direction of the small track.

"A dark place, a bad place."

Even as the snake stopped, a breeze blew out of the dell, carrying with it a terrible stench. Tommy retched and covered his face.

"Right. I'll need my wand. And…and Alec," he said. He wanted to call for papa. The snake couldn't know this, so he tucked it into the pocket of papa's uniform jacket and hurried into the village.

He met Alec leaving the pub, still steady on his feet but red in the face and singing,

"…It's a long way to Tipperary, to the sweetest girl I know!"

"Liz isn't from Tipperary," Tommy said, seizing Alec by the arm and away from the motorbike.

Alec pushed his hat down his forehead and pretended to scowl.

"Just having a laugh with those old codgers there," Alec said, thumbing at the pub but falling in step with Tommy. "All of them remember the Great War. Said half the village never came back."

Tommy had no thought for the Great War now. There was only one war that mattered. He seized his pack and fished out his wand. Alec took the bike and pushed it after him.

"You worried I'd be too drunk to bring you back to your grandmother?" Alec said, his words sloshing a bit on the way out. Tommy shook his head.

"I need you to help me with something. I think I found…something important."

Alec, even pushing his motorcycle, was much stronger and faster than Tommy. He passed him and blew a raspberry.

"Alright, where are you shanghaiing me?" he called.

Tommy felt the snake shifting.

"Strong feet, strong boots," it said.

"Er, Alec," Tommy said. Surely Alec heard the snake. It made no effort to disguise its unease.

"What is it, old man? Didn't you find this Mr. Riddle?"

Anger soured in his belly, but he wouldn't tell Alec. The less Tommy lived in his anger, the less it would take root.

"I did. He doesn't want me."

Alec stopped and let the motorcycle fall against a hedgerow. He turned round and took Tommy by the shoulders.

"He doesn't deserve you," Alec said. The words sank beneath hate and despair. Tommy's eyes swam, the world turned silver, and then the smell of Alec's aftershave and beer engulfed him.

The adder squirmed against his chest, hissing,

"Attack! Attack!"

"No, it's alright," Tommy said, pulling away and releasing the adder into his palm. Alec chuckled.

"I'm not frightened of snakes," he said.

"No, this one thought you were attacking me."

"Oh, did it?" Alec said, laughing off the last of his tears and ruffling Tommy's hair. They both took up the motorcycle.

"It did. Didn't you hear it?"

Could someone who wasn't a Parselmouth hear the snakes making noise?

"What, it told you, did it?" Alec said. When he smirked, his dimples winked out just like Alfie's.

Tommy held the snake until it quieted under his touch. He held it up to his eye. The adder met his eye with its brilliant green ones.

"Say something to Alec," he said.

"The big boots is deaf," the snake said.

Alec laughed.

"Aren't you a bit old to be pretending animals can talk?" he said.

So, you had to be able to speak Parseltongue. Still, it rubbed Tommy the wrong way all the same. He let the adder slip up his sleeve to drape around his neck.

"Alec…there's something I ought to tell you. I don't know if I should, but I want to."

Alec's smile threatened to draw more tears up. Tommy looked away.

"Is it about you and Alfie? Don't bother, I went to a boys' school as well. You grow out of it afterwards."

Tommy's cheeks reddened.

"No! I mean, well there is Alf, but that's not what I meant. I am," Tommy then paused. Alec's helmet would do nicely. Tommy took it and placed it on the ground between them. He drew out his wand. "I'm a wizard," he said.

Then he pointed at the helmet.

"Turturmefors," he said. Alec opened his mouth, probably to correct his conjugations, when he stopped.

The helmet scuttled up to Alec. Tommy giggled as Alec picked it up. He'd transfigured it into a turtle.

"It…you…it turned into a…a…" Eventually all sound died in Alec's throat. He stared at his turtle, which stared back. Tommy bit his lip and rocked on the balls of his feet.

"It's a turtle," Tommy said, when Alec made no sign of acknowledgment.

"A tortoise…" he breathed. Then he looked at Tommy, and the wand Tommy held at his side. "It's an optical trick. You swapped it when I wasn't looking," he said, grinning.

"Reparifarge," Tommy said, pointing at the struggling turtle.

It returned to a helmet. Alec dropped it and stepped back.

"How did you do that?" he said, staring at the helmet.

"With magic," Tommy said. When Alec turned his stare on him, Tommy shrugged and waved his wand. "Avis."

Three linnets flew gracefully from his wand tip, singing sweetly. They took to the wing while Alec's jaw dangled.

"You…made birds appear," he whispered.

"Yes. You see, I have a magical nature. I'm a wizard. I can do loads more, but I think I'll be in trouble if I continue."

"You mean, magic is real? Witches and fairies and magic, that's all real?" Alec said, flushing in anger. It was Tommy's turn to step back.

"Yes," he said.

Alec laughed once, more of a disbelieving croak.

"Alright, either you're mad, or I'm seeing things or—"

"—Or magic is real. Which would you prefer?" Tommy shrugged and returned his wand to his pocket.

Alec wiped his forehead, trying to ease the wrinkles. Then he wiped his mouth, though it was another moment before he spoke.

"Aright. I don't want to be mad, and I don't think you are either. So," he seemed to find his inner resolve, "so. Did your parents know? Doctor and Lady Davies?"

Tommy nodded. Saying their names would rip his throat open. Alec, gingerly, but smiling shyly all the while, placed a hand on Tommy's shoulder again.

"That is grand. They were good people. If magic is real, then I know there'll be a way for you to see them again."

Tommy nodded, his throat still aching with unspoken need. Alec patted him until the aching eased.

"Did you tell that Riddle fellow? Is that why he—"

"—I don't care about that. We need to go look at what I have found. There's a place in the woods full of dark magic. I think," Tommy took a steadying breath, "I think I'm supposed to clear it out. It shouldn't be allowed, at any rate. I imagine people could be hurt if any dark magic lost control."

Alec nodded.

"Aye, but what do you need me for? I doubt my gun would be much use against magic," he said.

"I want you here," Tommy said.

Alec nodded and saluted him, clicking his heels and everything.

"Right then. You lead on, and tell me what I can do. I won't let anything harm you, old man."

"Tommyknocker," Tommy said, hoarse.

"Tommyknocker it is."

The track led them down into the dell, the trees closing in around them. The air here smelled bad, not simply stale or musty. The unmistakeable stench of rot and death tainted everything.

Tommy took Alec's hand and held him tight. He wanted to run away, every nerve in his body was numb with fright. Alec's warm hand was the only thing properly real to him.

"Something terrible happened here. That smell, that's something dead. Something died here, Tommy. I don't know that I want you to see," Alec said.

Tommy drew his wand.

"If there is dark magic here, you'll need me."

Alec drew a gun from a concealed shoulder holster.

"And if there's anything else, you'll need me," he replied.

They crept into the gloaming, the air around them alive with magic and deadly cold. Tommy's breath made a white fug around him, clouding his vision.

"It shouldn't be this cold," he said at last.

Alec shook his head.

"No. Tommyknocker, if there is anything wrong here, you go and save yourself. Don't argue," he added, when Tommy squeezed him and opened his mouth. "Don't. You go, save yourself. I'm a soldier, I'm prepared to die defending you."

Tommy stared at him. He might mean it, but Tommy didn't want any more blood shed for him. He started to say this, when he noticed the shape in the woods behind Alec, right in the heart of the grove.

"Alec!" he said, pointing.

A tumbledown shack stood among the trees. Its roof had partially caved in. The windows all lay open, no fire came from the ruined chimney.

"Nobody cold possibly live here," Alec muttered. He glanced down at Tommy. "Does magic include ghosts, Tommyknocker?"

Tommy nodded, teeth chattering now with the cold and fright.

"It does. And much worse."

Alec actually crossed himself, the way papa might have.

"Right. This is something exactly out of a ghost story."

Tommy ignited his wand tip while Alec flicked off the safety on his gun. They approached one of the open windows.

"Who do you think lived here?" Tommy whispered.

Nothing stirred within, but the darkness was far too solid.

Before Alec could reply, slivers of the darkness detached themselves and glided out of the window. One of these nightmare shapes reached for Tommy, hands forming from rotted bone and shadowstuff. Another went for Alec.

Alec scrambled backwards while Tommy waved his wand at the things.

"Alec, you run!"

"Don't be an idiot!" Alec replied. He seemed to feel the things, but without a target for his weapon all he could do was blindly back away.

Meanwhile, the shadow creature bearing down on Tommy didn't seem frightened of his wand. It drew a breath, and all the air left Tommy's lungs.

The day they found Fitzgerald murdered on the beach, his body half-eaten by crabs. The day he met Mr. Suttcliffe, the one-armed man papa'd rescued in France. The day he received the telegram.

"Da…da…! Daddy! No!"

Alec's voice broke through the shifting nightmare memories, much higher and younger than Tommy'd ever heard.

"Alec," Tommy whispered, grabbing blindly, trying to ignite his wand again in the middle of this shadow creature's spell.

The day he'd met the ghost. The day he'd learned ghosts were real. The day they told him his abuela had died. The telegram. A telegram with his parents names and the day they'd been killed.

"Papa," Tommy said, whether whispering or screaming.

The worst days of Tommy's life kept unspooling from him, as if this creature could open his mind and draw them out. A creature that fed on his worst memories, that made the air deathly cold…

"Incendio!" Tommy pointed blindly and a jet of fire shot from his wand. The two shadows drew back from the flames, leaving Tommy time to reach for Alec.

Alec clutched a tree, whimpering,

"Da…da…da…daddy…"

He started when Tommy touched him.

"We need to go, we need to run," Tommy said, shooting fire over his shoulder. The creatures drew back again. For a moment, Tommy thought he had a reprieve.

Then a column of darkness rose from the collapsed roof. The creatures drew breath as one horrible, gasping entity. The swarm formed the shape of a giant, without eyes, without a face, only a black hole where the mouth should be, drawing in all light, all air, all hope.

All hope.

"Dementors," Tommy whispered. He thought of Gandalf fighting the necromancer. There must be some spell to defeat these things.

"Alec, come on," Tommy said, heaving Alec away from the tree.

If they could reach the motorcycle, he'd call for help with the two-way mirror.

"Daddy why'd you leave me?" Alec whimpered in that childish voice. He dragged his feet, even when Tommy did his best to pull him along.

"Alec! We need to move!"

"No! No use! My da's gone!"

The dementor swarm dissolved back into many little shadows, too many to count. All of them reaching for them.

"Alec, if you don't move they'll kill you!" Tommy shouted.

The snake in his pocket began shouting,

"Danger! Death! Darkness!"

"Alec," Tommy pleaded, knowing Alec couldn't see him. He was trapped, somewhere in the darkest corner of his mind.

Tommy wished the ghost of Alec's father could do the urging for him. They were still yards away from the bright, sunny track where they'd left the motorbike. Fingers of shadow and cold closed around them, blocking the sunlight and their escape. Alec flung both his arms around Tommy and keened,

"Da!"

Tommy tried drawing breath, but the icy air cut into his lungs. He needed light. He needed hope. He pointed his wand up as the shadows closed in overhead and thought of his home. His parents. Alec and Liz and Grandmother and Alfie.

Hope.

His wand tip ignited again, not with red-gold fire, but with a blinding silver flash. The dementors shied away from this, the edges of their shadow-cloaks disintegrating in that silvery light.

Hope. Tommy closed his eyes and clung to Alec, to something warm and human and hopeful. The silvery light grew brighter than sunlight, brighter than a searchlight. The dementors withered in that light, writhing into grey, then nothing at all. Tommy took a gulp of the free air.

"Magic, in the air, all around me," he said. Alec looked up and gave one whimpering laugh before he collapsed to his knees, sobbing into his hands. "I think they're gone," Tommy said, doing his best to keep his voice steady. Alec took a last shuddering moan and got back to his feet.

"We should get out of here, Tommyknocker," he said, his voice still too high.

Tommy kept his wand raised as he shook his head.

"We can't. They must have killed someone here. This house must have belonged to someone. We have to be sure."

Alec wrapped his arms around himself and shuddered.

"And if those things come back?"

Tommy held up his wand and poured his hope into it. The wand tip flared with silver, which this time resolved into a shape. A small, plump and seemingly-bewildered pig.

"You…made a pig appear?" Alec said. He reached out to touch it, but his hand moved right through it. "Ah, more magic, is it?"

"I…think this is a patronus," Tommy said. They hadn't learned the charm yet. Not officially. Tommy had come across it many times in his researches but hadn't had reason to attempt it in the safety of the castle.

"Your dog latin is embarrassing. I thought wizards were supposed to be clever," Alec said, coming round to Tommy's side. His voice had returned to normal.

Tommy grinned up at him until Alec laughed. The laughter made the pig glow brighter than a full moon, shining like a new silver coin.

"I think I ought to name it," he said. The pig blinked its large, doe-like eyes at him. "You remind me of the old Welsh stories. I think I'll have to call you something Welsh," he added.

The pig blinked again, waiting. Tommy had never realised how near to human a pig's eyes could be. As with the snake, now shuddering in his pocket, a language moved between Tommy and his patronus.

"Come along, Alec, Henwen," he said. Tommy let Alec take his arm as they crept toward the shack.

Even without the dementors infesting it, the shack had the dismal look of a building long deserted. The stench of death hung in the air.

"I wonder why no one ever came for, for whoever," Alec said.

He moved to the door, which hung ajar, gun raised. Tommy wanted to put himself between Alec and whatever might still be inside, but Alec shook his head and put a finger to his lips. Tommy waited, Henwen glowing softly beside him. Alec kicked the door open, leading with his gun, and barked,

"If there's anyone in here, you'd best show yourself!"

The silence this time was complete.

"I think it'll be alright now," Tommy said, but Alec held his hand up again. This time, rather than shushing, he covered his nose and grimaced.

"There's some bodies here, Tommyknocker. You'd best stay outside," he said, nose pinched. Tommy pushed forward, Henwen at his side.

"I want to help."

Alec handed him his handkerchief, eyes clouded with pity.

"Alright. Let's find something to wrap these people up with and then we'll bury them," he said.

Henwen nosed into the shack ahead of them both. Her glow lit the foul room beyond. Tommy made out furniture, and the shapes of two bodies prone across the floor. He followed behind Alec and Henwen. The air inside was close and thick with dust and decay.

"I wonder," Alec paused as they approached the corpses, "they don't look like they were attacked. They look like they died here on the floor."

Tommy had expected a lot more gore. He'd been to the cinema, he'd read enough comics. The two corpses had been exposed to the elements, but what was left of them looked oddly peaceful. They might have simply laid down on the floor and expired. There were remnants of small animals around, snakes and mice mainly. Plates of food had been stacked in the ancient tin sink.

"Maybe they were poisoned?" Tommy whispered, eyeing the food.

"Those creatures didn't do this to them," Alec said. He bent down to study the nearer corpse. Then he nudged it with his foot.

"Muggle! Filth! How dare you touch one of Salazar Slytherin's descendants!"

The voice roared through the shack. Alec readied his weapon and pointed it into the interior of the shack. Tommy jumped, one hand on the adder, the other on his wand. Henwen didn't seem upset by the ruckus. She nosed around Tommy, her light illuminating more of the dirt around them.

"Oi! I said, if anyone is here—" Alec tried. The voice bellowed again,

"Leave this place, muggle filth, or a terrible curse will fall on you!"

Tommy and Alec both stared around. The dust on the corpse Alec had nudged shifted as a shape rose. The dust motes and cobwebs resolved into the form of an old man.

"You're a ghost!" Tommy said.

"Get out of here, muggle boy! You've sniffed around my property once too many!" the ghost said.

Alec, knowing his gun would be useless, holstered it and put himself in front of Tommy.

"Don't you call him names. We came to see if anyone needed help," Alec said.

"That muggle scum helped himself, he did! Merope! He took Merope!"

The ghost couldn't harm them, but he charged, causing Alec to push Tommy backwards towards the door.

"Who's Merope?" Alec said. Tommy shivered and held his ground. The ghost charged through them both in a wave of sickness and stink. Alec gagged but held fast, as did Tommy.

"Merope was the name of Thomas Riddle's first wife," Tommy said.

Both Alec and the ghost stared at him.

"You mean, she was your real mother?" Alec murmured.

The ghost's eyes popped.

"You! Filthy halfbreed brat! Where is my daughter?"

Tommy had to swallow several times before he found his voice.

"She died. She had me and she died. I was adopted. I didn't know you were here. You're Marvolo Gaunt, aren't you?"

The ghost flickered out of sight for a moment. Henwen snuffled and in her light, he reappeared

"M'daughter! Merope! She left me, she left with that damned muggle filth. Rather be a muggle sow than a witch!"

Tommy choked on those words, but with Henwen beside him he had courage.

"She wasn't a sow! She was my mother. Thomas Riddle left her to die—"

"—Serves her right, the little bitch! Leaving her father, leaving her duty! She took the locket, the slut, Slytherin's locket!"

Alec hooked his arm around Tommy's elbow and pulled gently.

"Come on, Tommyknocker. This old bigot isn't your family, not really."

Tommy shivered and let Alec pull him. As he came to the threshold, he grabbed the crumbling frame.

"Wait! Merope ran away! Well, who did this to you? How'd you die, if she and Thomas Riddle were gone?" he said.

The ghost flickered again. He sighed, lifting dust off his corpse.

"A wizard, foreigner, some well-to-do nob. He had a funny name, German-like. Asked me about our family ring." The ghost held up a transparent grey hand, without any ornament. "Asked if he could buy, said he'd pay any price. Well! I told him that ring came down from the Peverells themselves, and he became excited. Drew his wand. Last thing I remember."

Tommy's stomach writhed with nausea.

"Was this wizard's name Gellert Grindelwald?" he whispered.

"Grindelwald! I says to him, I says, how could I know he was pureblood if he's from abroad? He said his aunt was English."

Tommy turned to Alec. Alec's brow was furrowed with worry and dislike.

"Alec, this Grindelwald, he's like Hitler, he's been attacking other wizards abroad. He's evil."

"You get that ring away from him, boy! He isn't fit to wear it any more than you, but at least you're of our blood!" the ghost said. He faded into dust motes and disappeared.

Alec dragged Tommy out to the road. When they stepped into the sunshine, Henwen disappeared too, into Tommy's heart. He felt her there, a warmth nothing could dispel. The adder left his pocket and slithered to the warm, pebbly road.

"Free! Free!" it called as it disappeared into the hedges.

"Tommy, I know what you're thinking, and I'm putting my foot down. Whatever this wizard Hitler is, he's dangerous. He murdered those men. I promised Liz and your Grandmother that I'd see you home safely for the summer. I'm going to do just that. You have to promise me you won't do anything rash," Alec said, squeezing Tommy until it hurt.

Tommy crossed his fingers in his pocket.

"I promise."

* * *

><p><em>AN: I'm getting a jump on any questions people will have about patroni. Some will say a) Riddle never cast one and b) it would be a snake. I have two rebuttals. A) Rowling did a very helpful thing, and clarified what patroni are on Pottermore [I know, Pottermore is ex cathedra but bear with me] and they are often aspects of the soul <strong>that remain hidden or unknowable until times of duress<strong>. Giving Tom a snake patronus is as subtle as a mallet to the face. He has no particular bond with snakes, ergo I felt no reason to give him a snake patronus. There is a much bigger snake in store for him later. B) Why did I make the choice I did? Well, again, I have Rowling to thank. She's stated that patroni most often take the form of companion animals, animals that humans have a long and strong history with. Unfortunately for her, she used photogenic, cute, cuddly animals as examples. Cats, dogs, mice, rats, rabbits and horses are very common patroni [presumably because they're just so darn cute/attractive] but Aberforth and his goat are anomalous [as is any magical companion animal, like Albus and his phoenix] And animals like pigs are too magically resistant and mundane to become patroni. Presumably the real reason is Rowling finds pigs too fat, ugly and yucky and this is why pigs are not often patroni either. For similar reasons, she's stated that pink is an inherently mundane, bourgeois colour and not representative of magic. This level of spurious colour and animal bashing spurred me to action._


	12. Fall Term 1941

_The poem is by Jorge Luis Borges, who is Argentine and well-regarded._

* * *

><p>Grandmother embraced him right on the front lawn, before he'd gotten much farther than the gates.<p>

"Tommy!"

Tommy's knees buckled under the weight of combined grief. He was taller than Grandmother now, but she'd borne so much more.

"Grandmother," he said.

"Tommy, my poor boy! You aren't going back to that wretched school, Tommy, you're staying here with us. I'll find a place for you in the local grammar school. We'll try Brackenwood Hall. Tommy," Grandmother's voice finally broke.

Tommy led her, her arm around his shoulder, back up the lawns and into the sitting room. Mum's piano stood closed and covered with a black cloth. Tommy choked and swallowed hard on the lump in his throat.

Alec had followed them to the door, but he stood by looking awkward.

"Tommy, we wish you'd been here for the service. It isn't right, what those people did at your school. They should have known you belong with your family at this time," Grandmother said, her voice thick with tears.

Tommy nodded and held back from crying. By force of will, the tears that had threatened to spill over stopped.

"I wanted to come," he whispered. Alec shifted on his feet and coughed.

"Lady Edmondes? If you and Tommyknocker need a mo'," he waited as Grandmother hiccoughed at the name, "I can always come back. I wanted to pay my respects."

Grandmother nodded and beckoned Alec closer.

"Of course Alexander, you're a friend of the family. We'll all go. You know, the little boys have been distraught since it happened? We have war guests," Grandmother said in response to Alec's look.

"Oh, aye," he said, taking Grandmother's arm from Tommy.

The walk to the cemetery took just long enough for Tommy to go numb inside. Alec led Grandmother by the arm, Tommy held her other hand limply. The churchyard had a yew tree bowed over the gate. The grass around the graves was as bright a green as the lawns of Crossfields. Many of the graves were new.

"Tommy my boy, my poor dear boy. We brought quite a few flowers when…all of them were Gwen and Aneirin's favourites. We thought about adding a few growing plants, but…and anyway it's just too soon. Oh," Grandmother stopped to take a shuddering breath, "oh, too soon."

Grandmother stopped when they came within sight of two shining new headstones.

"Part of the family plot," she whispered. "And my poor Gladys beside Gwen with her dear Wynn." Grandmother pointed to the two older graves beside his mum's.

Tommy looked up at her, for Grandmother had drawn another deep, shaking breath.

"They were such bright young things, Tommy. Gwen never knew her mother, and neither did you, but my daughter was just as wonderful as you can imagine," she said. Tommy shivered. He didn't yet want to get closer.

"Your daughter?" he whispered. Grandmother nodded.

"Go on, sweetheart. We'll let you have a moment," she whispered back, giving Tommy a nudge forward.

His parents' graves weren't as fancy as the older gravestones. With the war, he imagined there wasn't the time for marble angels and weeping figures. Grandmother had left baskets and wreaths of flowers all over both; it looked like half a greenhouse had tipped out onto the two plots.

Mum's headstone had the lyrics to Suo-Gan, which Tommy knew well enough to hum under his breath:

_"Sleep child on my bosom_

_Cozy and warm is this._

_Mother's arms are tight around you,_

_Mother's love is under my breast;"_

Papa had a verse from a Spanish poem he had once read to Tommy:

_"When sorrow lays us low_

_for a second we are saved_

_by humble windfalls_

_of the mindfulness or memory:_

_the taste of a fruit, the taste of water,_

_that face given back to us by a dream."_

Tommy waited to feel sad, but the longer he stood staring at the two new headstones, the less real they seemed. Surely mum and papa would come round from behind them, shouting for him? There must have been a mistake in the morgue.

He edged closer to mum's wreath. Lilies-of-the-valley and tuberoses, flowers mum loved for their scents. Their perfume brought stinging tears to the corner of his eyes. He looked over at papa's wreath. Grandmother had gone to a lot of trouble to find rich purple orchids. Tommy couldn't imagine papa wearing or liking such flowers in life. But then he couldn't imagine a world without his papa in it.

"Oh mum, papa," Tommy moaned. Tommy closed his eyes and reached out to touch the headstones. If they were real, then this was real and his parents really were gone. His fingers found cool, smooth stone just as the lump in his throat burst into a cry.

Tommy opened his eyes and read the dates to be sure. Aneirin Bautista Eduardo Davies-Maldonado. Born November 3rd, 1892, Died January 2nd, 1941. Gwendolyn Eilonwy Edmondes Davies-Maldonado. Born October 3rd, 1890, Died January 2nd, 1941.

They were gone. Really gone.

"Bye mum. Bye papa. I wish you could come back as ghosts," Tommy had to stop talking to snivel. He wiped his nose on his sleeve.

When he returned to Alec and Grandmother, he caught the tail end of Grandmother murmuring,

"…And if they hadn't gone to Cardiff, if they'd come back on the train before…"

She stopped when she spotted Tommy.

"I'm glad you picked poems," Tommy said, once he could swallow and speak. Grandmother nodded and pressed her handkerchief to her face. Alec looked distressed.

"Tommy dear, it's the last thing any parent ever wants to do," Grandmother said, muffled by her handkerchief. Tommy nodded and then, because they'd both faint if he didn't, he reached out and gave her the strongest hug he possibly could.

They both cried and shook and pleaded together. When Tommy's belly was empty of everything but a dull pain, he took Grandmother by the arm, Alec on her other side. They went to tea in the fine hotel nearby.

* * *

><p>Tommy spent many of his days trying to read. Every book in his room had either been a gift from mum or papa, which left only his wretched homework. He'd received the school list by owl, as usual, and promptly thrown it aside, along with mention about an award for academic achievement. Grandmother said he wouldn't go back. He was man of the house now, he must stay. Martin and Daniel Plaskett, however, both needed new uniforms and school supplies, for they went to the village grammar school.<p>

"It's a much nicer school than the one we went to back in Finchley," Martin told Tommy while he helped the younger boy with his homework.

"Mmm," Tommy said.

"But you're really lucky! You get to take a train all the way up North. What's it like?"

"I'm not going back to that school," Tommy said. Martin blinked at him before grinning and giving him a shove.

"You can't drop out of school. You're too young for the army! What are you going to do?"

"I dunno," Tommy said.

He hadn't looked into the two-way mirror since reporting to Alfie a very abridged version of his meeting with Thomas Riddle and the ghost of Marvolo Gaunt. Once Martin left to go plane-spotting with his brother, Tommy pulled the mirror out.

"Psst!"

"I'm not speaking to you, you dirty dog!"

Hearing Alfie's voice, even pretending to be angry, was a balm. Tommy smiled at Alfie's ridiculous pout.

"I miss you, Alf," Tommy said. Alfie went pink and for a moment his lovely dimples flashed. Then it was all scowls again.

"Don't think you can butter me up, you absolute dog! I'm never speaking to you again!"

"That's all well and good, then, Alfie, because I don't think I'm going back to Hogwarts. Grandmother wants me to stay. I don't want to leave her. She's my only family. Her and Liz, and Liz's parents of course."

Alfie stopped pretending to be furious and went white.

"You have to come back! If you leave Hogwarts now, they'll take your wand!"

The words left a grain of fear in Tommy's belly, but not enough to make an impression.

"So what? I can do loads of muggle jobs without it," he said, to squash that little germ of fear. Alfie heaved a huge sigh.

"So what? So what! If you do any magic at all without a wand or license, they'll lock you in Azkaban!"

Tommy didn't yet want to go into detail about the dementors, but he couldn't hide a shiver from Alfie.

"So what? They don't scare me —"

"— You're a dog and a liar, Tommy Davies!" Alfie said, on the verge of tears.

"Alright, if you want me back so badly, I'll go to Hogwarts. But I mean it about dementors. I've already fought them off. I fought them when I went to the Gaunts' home."

Alfie was agog at this.

"No! What on earth were they doing there?" Alfie said.

Tommy shivered again.

"They arrested Marvolo Gaunt. When he went to Azkaban, he was injured. They must have released him and brought him back," Tommy said.

"And then they killed him?" Alfie said.

"No…he didn't die by them," Tommy said. He wouldn't bring Grindelwald up here and now, when he could talk to Alf about pleasant things instead.

Alfie gave an even bigger shudder and then gaped at Tommy. "How on earth did you survive?"

"Well, according to my research, if you have hope you can fight them off. If you can summon a patronus, that's ideal. So I did."

"Did what?"

"Summon a patronus," Tommy said. The intensity of Alfie's staring made Tommy hot under the collar.

"That's bloody marvelous! What form does yours take?"

Tommy flushed but tried to laugh it off.

"Oh, um. A pig," he said.

Alfie went pink as well and snickered.

"A pig? Well, and here I thought it would be a dragon, or something more Welsh!" he said, with a giggle.

"Pigs are Welsh. The boar of Twrch Trwth is Welsh," Tommy said.

Everything seemed brighter when Alfie laughed, which he did plenty of now. Alfie appeared to have fallen back on his bed, howling with laughter. Tommy waited until the last peals of mirth had faded before adding, "I can meet you in Diagon Alley if you like. I have so much to tell you."

"Well you'll have to tell me everything or I shall be so cross with you," Alfie said, the threat ruined by the way he wrinkled his nose.

They agreed to meet in a week, when Grandmother brought the little boys up to London to buy their school things and visit their mother. Uncle Stig and Aunt Marie were both accompanying them.

* * *

><p>Tommy had never been to Diagon Alley without an escort. Grandmother and Aunt Marie were shepherding the little boys around London, even taking them to the cinema at Martin's begging. This left Tommy with Uncle Stig.<p>

Uncle Stig had never been particularly talkative, but now he'd clammed up, cold as stone. He shrugged off Tommy's questions about the Home Guard. He grunted when Tommy asked if they might also go to the cinema. Uncle Stig didn't say more than two words at all until Tommy'd dawdled through five used bookstores. When they exited, Uncle Stig grabbed Tommy before he could cross the road to the next one.

"Don't bother. Don't know why you're wasting my time, Tom. Been meaning to speak to you about your folks," he said, tone gruff.

Even in the late August sunshine, Tommy shuddered. The Blitz had left scars all across London: streets diverted because of unexploded shells. Whole blocks reduced to rubble. Home Guardsmen at every intersection. People wandering about, looking like lost souls.

"What about them?" Tommy said. Uncle Stig readjusted his grip so that it was gentle.

"You really certain you want to go back to school all the way in Scotland?" Uncle Stig said. He steered them into a pub, and shushed Tommy when he started to object.

"I have to go to school or I'll be in trouble. I don't want to be sent down," Tommy said rather than fight over the pub. Uncle Stig frowned but he kept quiet until they were seated.

They sat in an unoccupied booth. Uncle Stig got a whiskey for himself, and a coca-cola for Tommy, with crisps to share.

"Look, old man, sometimes even when its hard, you have to make your own way in the world. A lot of people are going to want to protect you from that," Uncle Stig said. He sighed and pretended he was laughing at the callous world. Tommy saw behind the blisters and darkened eyes. Uncle Stig only knew a callous world.

"If we win the war, it'll be better," Tommy said, wanting to say something that might change his uncle's mind.

"Sure, they'll jolly you along that everything will be fine, a rainbow after every storm, all our brave boys home and safe and healthy. I'm not going to lie to you like that, old man. Don't see the point," Uncle Stig said.

He wouldn't be jollied along and Tommy didn't have any cheer in him to try it.

Tommy tried to look past the gas burns, to whatever was left of the boy Tommy'd only glimpsed in old photographs. Pain had been written into every blister and freckle on his uncle's skin.

Pain and an anger that had smoldered so long it would never be put out. Pain, anger and love, love for Aunt Marie and Liz. Love for his papa so deep and strong it was an ocean to itself, within an ocean of suffering and hate.

"I, I know why you're telling me. I do understand, a little bit. You lost papa before I ever did," Tommy said. They weren't cheerful words, but they needed saying.

His uncle flinched at these words, but he didn't deny it. Instead, he put a shaking hand over Tommy's.

"Your pa was my best friend. He was never too high and mighty for anyone." Uncle Stig stopped to laugh quietly and Tommy did too, because it was better than crying. "I'm glad you had the chance to know him. I'm glad he had the family he wanted. It was a different time, then," Uncle Stig said.

Tommy didn't pull away. He knew what was coming. Uncle Stig shifted a little in his seat and looked down at his whiskey.

"I went stone sober after the war. Didn't want to be a drunkard with a baby on the way. Even when your pa married, I stayed sober. This is the first drink I've had in…you weren't even born yet, old man," he murmured.

Tommy tapped the table beneath Uncle Stig's hand.

"We can leave, if you want to. You don't have to have a drink. I promised I'd meet a friend. There's a pub you can wait for us in, if you'd like that," Tommy said, hurrying to smile when his uncle looked at him.

"You and that Alfie you're always on about?"

Now it was Tommy's turn to remain silent, to not deny it. Uncle Stig grinned, an echo of the boy he'd been in it.

"Ah, me, young love. Don't you ever hide it, old man, don't deny it. It's going to be a different world when this war's over."

"Will it really be that different? Was it different for you and papa?" Tommy whispered. Uncle Stig shook his head and ran a hand through his thinning hair.

"Maybe you'll be able to come out in the light of day. If you bury it, it'll only poison you from the inside," Uncle Stig said, tapping his own heart. "The heart wants what the heart will, eh, old man?"

Tommy swallowed hard and finished his cola in a gulp, the way a seasoned drinker finished slugs. Uncle Stig laughed.

"That's right," Tommy said, and burped. Uncle Stig laughed.

"Well now! Let's not keep your sweet prince waiting! You just show me to this watering hole and I'll leave you lads to run the roads a bit."

They entered the Leaky Cauldron about tea time, when the barman had tankards lined up along the counter. Tommy wasn't certain Uncle Stig would blend in, what with all the wizards inside. But, the Leaky Cauldron opened to the muggle street as well as Diagon Alley. They must be used to getting muggles in sometimes. And Uncle Stig's appearance would draw less comment than the hag who was ordering pints of something red and sticky.

"Bit of a queer spot, this is," Uncle Stig whispered. Tommy looked at him, praying he wouldn't be upset.

"Well, yes, people here are uniquely gifted," Tommy said. He led Uncle Stig to a shadowy corner. "If you don't want to stay, just tell the barman where you'll be. And, erm, if you see anything funny," Tommy said, trailing off. His Uncle was looking around, at the hag, at a pair of goblins arguing over a betting game, at the wizard wearing a magenta top hat rather than a pointed cap.

"What is this, a pub for circus folk?" Uncle Stig said.

Such relief spread through Tommy, from his toes all the way to his fingertips.

"It is. You must ask them to show you a few tricks, if you like," he said, with his best try for a teasing nudge. Uncle Stig nudged back.

"Go on, you're keeping loverboy waiting."

Alfie stamped his foot when he saw Tommy, shouting,

"You absolute cad! How dare you keep one of _the_ Blacks waiting!"

Tommy ran up to him and wanted to hug him so tight he'd forget what loss meant. Instead, he smiled and let Alfie seize his hand.

"I had to tell Cyggy and Wallie I was meeting a _girlfriend_ because of you! And then they wanted to know who she was and how distantly we were related and if she had all her teeth and wasn't a half-wit," he said, prattling as he dragged Tommy into Gringotts for change, then to Flourish and Blotts for their books.

Tommy stashed his shopping in Alfie's mokeskin satchel and they turned down a lane into Knockturn Alley. Alfie was recounting the story of how the bombings had frightened a dragon loose from a reserve near the coast and of how fifty muggles needed to be tracked down and Obliviated before they could contain the damage.

"This war can't be over soon enough, if you ask me! And that Grindelwald has been making a real stink in Ruritania. Now he insists that all the squibs in Ruritania's colonies register, or they'll be interred in Nurmengard," Alfie finished.

They stopped outside a shop called Borgin and Burkes. It appeared to specialize in magical antiques. Tommy remembered Marvolo's threat about the locket. His real mother's locket, passed down from Slytherin himself.

"Alf," Tommy said, staring into the shop's dusty window, "If I told you I was making a plan to stop Grindelwald once and for all, what would you say?"

"I'd say you'd be mad to try. They're certain he has the Elder Wand. It's just about the most powerful wand in existence, and Grindelwald hasn't lost a duel yet." Alfie squeezed Tommy's hand as they both peered at the silver and opal necklace in pride of place.

"Tommy, I say, do you want to go inside? Mother says the proprietor can be a bit stingy, but she's found just marvelous things inside. A music box that puts you to sleep so you're in your happiest dreams forever until you close the lid! And a pair of pearl earrings that could charm anyone just by looking at them. I've always said Wallie needed the wretched things. She'd usually hex me for it."

Tommy laughed and went for the door.

"Do they sell lots of jewelry?" he said. Alfie shrugged as he followed Tommy inside. The shop smelled of magic as much as it did of the strange unguents and potions bottled behind the counter.

"I expect they do. Mother's always in here for something," Alfie replied.

"There's something I'm looking for, you can help me," Tommy said, lowering his voice when the shopkeeper spotted them. A little old man with a shifty demeanor, he'd been arranging a display of beads all made to look like eyes. His cold eyes brightened when he recognised Alfie.

"Young Black, always a pleasure. And how is Madame Black?" he said, sliding Tommy suspicious looks between sucking up to Alfie.

"Sour as always, Burke, as you know very well. My companion and I were looking for something, however," Alfie said, dazzling with his smile.

Burke smirked appreciatively. Tommy caught the briefest insight through the man's eyes. Pretty and wealthy Alfie, the sort of gull who spent with abandon on whatever Burke chose to peddle. Tommy scowled.

"And what can I help you find today, Young Black?" Burke said. He must have felt Tommy glowering, for he stopped casting sideways looks and focused a weak smile on Alfie.

Alfie turned his own far brighter smile on Tommy and nudged him in the side.

"Do go on, Tommy. It'll be on my account. Call it a belated birthday present."

Tommy wouldn't trust this Burke to be honest with him, nor Alfie, no matter how large Alfie's account. He coughed and indicated that Alfie should step aside with him.

"I don't know if it'll be here. It was very valuable to Marvolo Gaunt," Tommy whispered. Alfie tapped the side of his nose, so Tommy sighed and said, "My mother had a locket, apparently from Salazar Slytherin himself. Marvolo said she stole it when she ran off. Who knows where it is now. It might be anywhere."

Alfie gave a scoffing little laugh as he tossed his head.

"You watch me," he whispered. Turning back to Burke, Alfie upped the wattage on his smile and spread his hands as if taking in the whole shop. "We're looking for one of your specialties, Burke. I know you have a nose for every ancient artifact in the British Isles."

Burke demurred with a shrug, shooting Tommy a look. He returned Alfie's smile briefly.

"You aren't looking for Merlin's teapot, are you, Young Black?"

Alfie chuckled and rolled his eyes.

"Ah, your little joke, Burke! No, we're hunting for one of Slytherin's artifacts. Haven't come across his old teapot, have you?"

Tommy watched Burke the way a cat watched a mouse. A tic twitched in his jaw, and his hands jerked before he picked up one of the glass beads. His eyes never left Alfie's.

"Slytherin's, eh? We rarely get artifacts that old, even here, Young Black. You ought to know it can be next to impossible."

"For the right price, Burke, anything is possible," Alfie said, leaning against the counter so that his curls fell over his eyes. This sort of winsome behaviour only upset Burke more. The tic returned as he appeared to search for a new excuse.

"I'd have to go through our shop records, Young Black, and that could take some time," he said. Alfie pouted adorably, but Tommy'd had enough.

"Don't you have an assistant who could do that?" he said, putting a hand on the counter, the other on his wand, beside his wallet. He wouldn't put it past Burke to make free of other people's money or magic.

Burke looked down his nose at Tommy, before showing a smile that was all teeth and no charm.

"The position is currently unfilled. We have a discerning clientele here, and I can't trust most youngsters with the responsibility of assisting us. Some of our artifacts are not only highly magical but highly volatile," he said.

Tommy snorted and gestured at the glass beads.

"These are mal de ojo, or the Evil Eye," he said. Burke's mouth quirked in a patronizing smile.

"And the amulets we carry here can bring about major jinxes against those who look into such an eye," he said. Tommy shrugged, looked around and spotted an old-fashioned camera.

"That camera does the same thing, it jinxes whoever it takes a picture of," he said. Burke's eyebrows raised. He considered Tommy before pointing at a large round mirror with the silvering clouded by age.

"And what do you suppose that is?" he said.

Tommy felt his neck, but he wouldn't let Burke on to that. Alfie too watched him with more focus than usual.

"May I have a closer look?" Tommy said. He knew of half a dozen cursed mirrors from folklore and his research, but this might be something else again. Burke took the mirror down and rested it on the counter before Tommy.

Although there was no clear reflection, Tommy caught yellow shapes shifting in the silvery distance. He closed his eyes and touched the edge of the frame. For just a moment, the smell of sulfur and Bay Rum cologne.

"It's a Foe Glass," Tommy said, opening his eyes on Burke's astonished expression. Alfie looked ready to go into raptures.

"Clever boy," Burke said, replacing the Foe Glass to avoid meeting Tommy's gaze. When he turned back, he asked, "How old are you?"

"I'm fourteen, sir," Tommy said, in a nod to propriety. Burke looked him up and down, before doing the same to Alphard. Alfie hadn't stopped staring or lounging against the counter as though he could buy the whole shop if it entered his mind to do so. When Burke could no longer avoid returning to Tommy, he said,

"Now boy, you're a bit young yet, but when you've qualified as a wizard, come 'round. We might have work for a lad who knows his artifacts."

Tommy glanced around as well. The more he looked, the more he felt a tug of curiosity towards the treasures on display. There was a porphyry sarcophagus under dusty glass, a gleaming suit of mail and, hanging from the ceiling, a perfect dragon skeleton.

"You don't have anything of Slytherin's do you?" he tried, hoping to rattle Burke. "No one's ever brought one of his belongings to you?"

Burke did not shift visibly, nor give any other tell. Tommy caught a glimpse of a haggard, pregnant girl holding up a gold locket behind Burke's weaselly eyes.

"As I say, I'd have to look through our records," Burke said.

"Right," Tommy said, locking his gaze with Burke's. Burke, to his credit, didn't flinch.

On the cobblestones outside, Tommy held Alfie back before he could swank into Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. "He was lying."

"Mm. Well, you can't expect him to treat you the way he'd treat one of _the_ Blacks," Alfie said. As they entered Fortescue's, a familiar voice boomed out,

"Black, Davies! I'm glad I had a chance to catch you boys before term started," Slughorn said.

He had a magnificent pineapple and banana sundae before him. Alfie giggled at the sight of it, giving Slughorn the opportunity to drag over two more chairs.

"It's good that you're out with friends, Davies," Slughorn said, lowering his voice as they both sat beside him. "If there's ever anything you need, lad, don't hesitate to ask. Terrible thing to happen, especially to a young man. You still have family, if I'm not mistaken?" he said.

Tommy nodded and composed himself.

"My Grandmother, Lady Edmondes, and my aunt and uncle."

The pause didn't go unnoticed. Alfie's hand slipped into Tommy's, beneath the table, as a secretive look went around their trio. Slughorn waved Fortescue over to order ice creams for Tommy and Alfie. Once they arrived, he leaned forward and said,

"You haven't learned more about the Gaunts, have you?"

Slughorn clearly couldn't help himself when confronted with a real mystery, any more than Tommy could. Tommy sighed but had to laugh.

"I have, professor, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't let it get around the staff. I know you said Marvolo Gaunt wasn't a colleague, but I don't know if you'd understand what's happened."

Slughorn, like Alfie, sat agog while his ice cream melted.

"Go on," he breathed.

Tommy shrugged.

"Marvolo Gaunt was arrested for attacking muggles, including," Tommy glanced around, but the shop was crowded with end-of-summer holiday-makers. No one looked at them twice. "Including my real father. Marvolo grew sick in Azkaban, and died after they released him."

Slughorn looked ill at the mention of Azkaban, but Tommy pretended not to notice.

"It's never comfortable hearing that someone we once knew came to a sticky end, no matter how, how unpleasant. I don't suppose there are any other living Gaunts, aside from you, Davies?"

Tommy winked at Alfie out of the corner of his eye Slughorn couldn't see.

"Not living, professor, no. But I did meet Marvolo Gaunt. He was a ghost, and he told me about my mother."

Slughorn's eyes, which had always been large, looked ready to pop out of his skull. Alfie clearly found this amusing, for he took an extra large swallow of melted Neapolitan.

"My goodness, Davies. He wasn't a happy man, old Marvolo."

"No, professor, especially not after the dementors."

"Dementors?"

Alfie nudged Tommy under the table in encouragement. Tommy made one last sweep of the room, before leaning in and dropping his voice so it wouldn't cary beyond their table,

"There was a swarm of them around Marvolo's old house. I had to fight them off," he said.

Slughorn gasped, while Alfie giggled again and nodded.

"It's true! He can conjure a corporeal patronus! It takes the form of a pig," Alfie said.

Slughorn looked from Alfie to Tommy in confirmation. When Tommy nodded, Slughorn spread his hands wide and patted them both on the shoulders.

"That is extraordinarily precocious magic, Davies! I doubt even Albus could have, at your age."

Tommy brushed aside mention of Dumbledore with just a frown.

"I didn't have a choice. They would have killed me and my friend. Thankfully they didn't kill Marvolo, or I might never have learned the truth," Tommy paused, while Slughorn and Alfie both gave him their undivided attention.

"Marvolo had a locket and a ring with him, from the Peverells and Slytherin himself. His ghost was furious they'd both been stolen."

It was Alfie's turn to give a huge gasp.

"Stolen?" he asked.

"By the person who _did_ kill Marvolo," Tommy said, doing his best not to grit his teeth.

"This doesn't have something to do with your plan about Grindelwald, does it?" Alfie squealed.

Slughorn pulled a grimace at the mention of Grindelwald.

"Really, Davies, a fourteen year old, no matter how bright, can't possibly hope to stand against a tyrant of Grindelwald's calibre."

Tommy nodded, but remained relaxed.

"Not even if he's descended from the great Salazar Slytherin?" he said. Slughorn shook his head.

"Ah, but Davies, they say he has the Elder Wand," he said. "And you'd be expelled if you tried to fight."

Tommy brushed aside the Elder Wand as well. He had a plan for dealing with that.

"If it's true that I'm Slytherin's descendent, then it follows that I'd be able to access some of his secrets. Ones that have remained hidden in the castle for centuries…"

Slughorn and Alfie both whispered in chorus,

"The Chamber of Secrets?"

Tommy let his grin speak for him.

* * *

><p>Uncle Stig hadn't gone without company in the meantime. When Tommy and Alfie met him in the Leaky Cauldron, he'd been singing ballads in Irish with a leprechaun and a warlock.<p>

"Not exactly the sort of place you'd think to find yourself in, in the middle of a war," Uncle Stig said. Like Alec, he could drink hard with little to show for it. As he got to his feet to shake Alfie's hand, he didn't even sway.

"Well, we all know there's a war on, moron," Alfie said, softening the insult by giggling. Tommy wasn't sure if he wanted to kick him or kiss him. Uncle Stig seemed taken with Alfie at once. Maybe some of his own memories of papa had something to do with it.

"And that's why it's best you and Tommy stay in school. We don't need any more brave stupid boys in the trenches," Uncle Stig said.

They left the Leaky Cauldron for the Underground, where Alfie said he had to leave them.

"But I shall see you in school, Tommy," Alfie said, dimpled and pink and too pretty to bear.

"Right," Tommy replied. After Alfie'd disappeared into the crowd, Uncle Stig kept giving Tommy knowing winks.

They met Grandmother and Aunt Marie at Paddington. Martin and Daniel were practically asleep on their feet, but Martin roused himself to tell Tommy about the musical they'd seen.

"…And then Smitty and Herbie run into a theatre that's being used as a draft centre, and the dummies sign up for the draft!" Martin said. Tommy and Daniel giggled, until they noticed Uncle Stig wasn't smiling.

By the time Tommy boarded the Hogwarts express on September the first, he had the entirety of "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy" memorized. Martin and Daniel hadn't stopped singing it or running around with their toy bugles, sending Grandmother into a temper when someone so much as hummed the first bars.

"You actually seem happy," Alfie said the moment he'd laid eyes on Tommy. Tommy'd chosen an empty compartment, but he welcomed Alfie's company. They were joined by half their house within the hour, boys and girls alike. After a while the noise, what with the exploding snap cards, the squeals when someone got gobbed with a gobstone, the sparks from people play dueling, broke the last of Tommy's patience.

"Oh blow it eight to the bar!" he hollered, when Cuthbert Crabbe had demonstrated his mastery of the S_onorus_ charm for a group of third year girls for maybe the hundredth time.

"Eight to the what?" Crabbe said in a magnified whisper. One of the girls squealed and added,

"He blows it eight to the bar!" and began tapping out a familiar rhythm. The other girls watched her, giggling, before joining in. The rocking carriage set the beat for them, while the boys pressed against the walls.

"He blows it eight to the bar, in boogie rhythm!" the girls sang. Tommy caught Alfie's eye and they both grinned. Tommy hummed along, "The company jumps when he plays Reveille! He was the boogie-woogie bugle boy of Company B!"

"We're going to need that wireless now, so we can have a proper sock mop," Alfie whispered, while the girls begged a few boys to dance, cackling like mad.

"Hop, sock hop! And I'll be busy looking for the Chamber," Tommy replied. Alfie pouted, but then a girl named Druella dragged him into a furious jig they were performing.

At the opening feast, Tommy was shocked to discover he'd been made a junior prefect, what had in papa's days at Brackenwood Hall been called 'fagging'. He'd spent so much of the summer ignoring his Hogwarts correspondence that it took Professor Dumbledore snapping at him to assist in collecting the first years to bring the message home.

"We're getting off on the wrong foot, Davies," Dumbledore said, within hearing range of the little first years. They goggled at Tommy, then at Druella Rosier, the other junior prefect.

"Yes, sir," Tommy said, scowling at Dumbledore's back. He adjusted his new badge and gestured at the first years. "Come along."

They followed him in silence, but quite a few continued to stare. Once they were down in the dungeons, Druella said,

"He was completely out of line, that Dumbledore. I'm glad the Ravenclaws are stuck with him."

A first year girl tugged Druella's hand, drawing her attention.

"Er, we don't have to sleep down here, do we? There aren't monsters?" she whispered.

A couple of the firstie boys smirked. Tommy and Druella looked at each other, before returning to the girl.

"No, there aren't any monsters. It's actually rather nice in our common room. We're having a wireless put in," Tommy said.

Druella grinned, humming a few more bars of "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy".

After dispersing the new password to the firsties and telling them about their timetables and curfews, Tommy found Alfie lounging with Cyggy and their cousin Orion, who was in Cygnus's year.

"Lestrange is being a wart, he thinks the commendation should have gone to a pureblood," Cyggy said, his whining tone suggesting he wanted to wind Tommy up.

"He's welcome to think it, if he can string a thought together," Tommy retorted. Cyggy nudged Orion.

"Why'd they let you back? You ran off last year, left a month early. Didn't your parents die?" Cyggy continued, in a whine. All the air left Tommy's lungs, but Alfie screwed up his face and snapped,

"Oh shut up, Cyggy-soggy-pants!"

"They were killed, yes," Tommy said. Cygnus, whinging at his brother, didn't reply. Orion shrugged and eventually intervened, when Alfie and Cyggy drew their wands.


	13. Fall Term 1941 to Winter Term 1942

**AN: Until someone tells me otherwise, my guy Sal is a Basque. Which makes the political climate of Founders Hogwarts all kinds of messy.**

* * *

><p>In preparation for fifth year, and their OWLs, Tommy wasn't surprised to find a dramatic increase in his homework. Coupled with extracurricular duties and clandestine snogging sessions with Alfie, it wasn't until December that he had any time in the library for something other than studies. He'd easily wheedled a permission slip for the Restricted Section from Slughorn, and all for the price of joining Old Sluggy for one of his Saturday suppers.<p>

"_Magice Moste Foule_? _Moste Potente Potiones?_ Alec was right, the dog Latin is embarrassing," Tommy murmured. His only company was the ghost of the reading woman. He looked over his shoulder to where she stood, book in hand.

"You must know the library inside and out by now," he said to her. He didn't expect a reply, for although he'd often seen her gliding through the corridors, she'd never spoken to a student before. It was a shock when she turned to him, her tone cool,

"No one can ever hope to know these tomes. My mother built this library, together with her lover, my father. They wanted a place for all magical learning, a safe place. It was a dark time, then."

Tommy stepped back from the mildewed shelves to get a better look at this woman. Silvery and transparent, like Henwen, it was impossible to tell the colour of her robes, but they seemed to be made of fine embroidered cloth.

"You're not a princess, are you?" he said, trying to smile and finding it difficult, with her appraising stare.

"No. My mother bore the crown of knowledge," the woman said. Tommy sensed something behind her transparent eyes, but she wasn't alive and there were no thoughts left in this life he could glimpse.

"Who was your mother?"

The woman sighed and drifted away, her book forgotten. Tommy followed at a respectful distance. He found her beneath the tapestry depicting the Hogwarts school crest, gazing up at it.

"She's there, you can see her. She has the honour she wanted in life. And I have my shame," the woman said. Tommy followed the line of her finger to the Ravenclaw eagle.

"You're Ravenclaw's daughter? Rowena Ravenclaw, the school founder?" Tommy's heart forgot a few beats, before he pinched life back into his numbing shoulder. The woman sighed again.

"I am," she said.

"But what shame could that be? Your mother was a great witch in her day! Surely there's no shame in that?"

The woman drew herself up, her stare became haughty.

"If I am here then I know my shame. I do not need a mere living child to question what was once my life," she said. The air around them grew frosty. The woman turned and drifted right through the wall. Tommy chased after her this time.

"Wait! I wasn't making fun! My parents are dead, I've met ghosts before this! I'm not making fun," Tommy said, running from room to room along the corridor. He caught the woman in the stairwell. She was gliding upward.

"All things must pass through the Veil," the woman said. Tommy nodded, but his tears had dried up. The air remained frosty between them.

"I know. I've met ghosts before my parents…and after. I promise I'm not making fun," he said. The woman passed through him, downwards, leaving an aching cold in his bones.

"You also have secrets?" she said.

Tommy, wondering if she could see into him as easily as he looked through her, nodded.

"Secrets and questions!"

"If the questions please me, then I shall answer. But you must answer mine in return," she said. Tommy nodded and steadied himself.

"If you're Ravenclaw's daughter, then you knew Salazar Slytherin?" he said. The cold air dried his mouth, and his nerves with it. The woman studied him for long moments, before she nodded.

"The old man in the tree. He went mad in his old age. Long years spent in lonely study."

Tommy shivered and couldn't stop shaking. He wrapped his arms around himself and did his best not to shiver too hard.

"He lived in a tree? I thought he lived here?" he said.

The woman smiled, and it wasn't entirely without kindness.

"He still lives in a tree. Now I have a question for you. Why do you care?"

Tommy'd been ready for this from the moment she'd passed through him. He imagined she had some of the answer already, but he said,

"Slytherin is my ancestor. I wanted to find his secret chamber. I think I'm the one to do it."

The woman shook her head and laughed, a cruel but tinkling laugh.

"The old man took the secret with him into his prison. If you want to know of the Chamber, you must ask it of him." She tilted her head, as if looking for a resemblance to Salazar in Tommy. At last, when Tommy's lips felt numb from cold, she said, "Goizane's child, Goizane the beautiful, Goizane the sweet and lovely. My beloved Goizane. So she married after my death."

"Goizane?" Tommy said, the name tasting familiar and yet incredibly alien at the same time.

"Goizane Slytherin, my only Goizane. We swore our maidenhead to each other, even when the baron came for me. Goizane, who was beloved of many men."

Tommy flushed, drawing feeling back into his freezing face. He looked away, at his feet, at the walls. The intensity with which this woman spoke had so many echoes of his own feelings for Alfie.

"The baron? You mean…the Bloody Baron?" he said, to his shoes.

"A jealous man. I kept my oath to Goizane. I gave him nothing but my life's blood. Goizane could not keep hers. She married the Lord Peverell."

Tommy swallowed hard.

"He had a ring he gave her, didn't he?" Tommy whispered. The ghostly woman laughed, but there was no joy in it at all. The air could have blown from an ice giant's breath.

"A ring to make Goizane his bride, and take her from me, and leave me to be ravished by the baron. My Goizane died when she heard it."

"That's a horrible story," Tommy said, managing at last to lift his head. The woman's smile had all the wintry beauty of a glacier.

"That is why we linger here, in our pain."

Tommy wanted to run, as he'd never wanted to run before. Not even when he'd fought the dementors.

"And…you couldn't tell me where to find the tree, could you?" he tried. The woman glided down the stairs, laughing her winter's laugh.

"Tell me, Slytherin child, what would you do if you found the Chamber? What secrets do you hope are yours?"

Tommy skidded onto the lower landing, but the woman had disappeared. The stony walls were still white with frost.

* * *

><p>"Mmm, that's so delicious, a mad love triangle and a murder. Why don't they teach us interesting things in school?" Alfie purred. He and Tommy were curled up on their favourite rug before the fire. Alfie'd rested his head in Tommy's lap, so Tommy could pet him, just like Tommy's old cat.<p>

"Does it matter? We need to find the tree where Slytherin was trapped! It could still be alive, somewhere in the Forest—"

"—The _Forbidden Forest_. That we're _forbidden_ to enter. That's full of dark, _forbidden_ magic and beasts," Alfie said, placing near operatic flourishes on the words. Tommy pushed his head out of his lap.

"You're not afraid, are you? I'd be with you. What could be worse than dementors?"

"Let me count the ways," Alfie said, sitting up and splaying all ten fingers. "Let's see, there could be: giants, dragons, werewolves, ogres, trolls, banshees, Red Caps, leithfolds, cursed stones and fool's gold," he finished, breathless but grinning ear to ear.

Tommy pulled a face.

"Dragons are ranched in the British Isles, giants are extirpated, werewolves are only dangerous at the full moon, trolls and ogres are too stupid to be fussed with us, banshees can be Silenced, Red Caps and leithfolds aren't native and the last two," Tommy paused as well to kiss Alfie's cheek, "won't be a bother for me."

"Well, you're half a fool already," Alfie said, pushing Tommy gently away.

Slughorn's Saturday suppers were far more enjoyable with Malfoy and his lot graduated. Alfie, at everyone's urging, had asked his parents to send a gramophone, while Tommy and Druella and one or two other with a love of music sent for records to play. Liz was on leave long enough to receive his letter. She sent back actual, coveted, American records.

"There's American G.I.s with us 'gals'. They finally decided to enter the war, shame it had to come after such a barbarous attack. I know you don't get any news, Tommyknocker, and honestly its better that way. I haven't heard anything from Alec since we last met. I think he mentioned, he was shot down, the brave fool. Now he's finally back in the air, I think his mother is ready to disown him in favour of Jimmy. Poor James, he was declared unfit for service. If this war goes on any longer, kiddo, they'll be drafting you next. I doubt I'll be able to send you owl post again, and those records were something for the poor bird to carry. Kiss Alfie, from me, and don't you do anything stupid. Bad enough I have to keep one eye on Alec. If I wasn't going to marry him, I'd kill him. I might just do it anyway.

Love always,

Lizzy."

Tommy did his best not to think about Liz or Alec being shot down by Germans. When someone put on a Glen Miller record, he even taught them some of the dance steps he and Lottie Owens had learned. It seemed ages ago when mum had called them 'cute' and told him to get a girlfriend. What would mum think of him and Alfie? He hoped she'd understand.

Being Slytherins allowed them a lot of leeway. Slughorn shooed the last, laughing revelers out of his office at eleven.

"Go on, there's a week of term left! I'll be in it up to my neck if you lot fail exams due to sleep deprivation," he said. Tommy'd lingered behind, looking at some of the awards Slughorn had acquired over his career. When Slughorn turned back and found him studying the medals, he chuckled and patted Tommy's shoulder.

"Come along, Thomas, you still have to obey curfew," he said. Tommy flinched.

"Please, don't call me Thomas. That was my real father's name, and he hates me, he's a beast. Everyone just calls me Tommy."

Slughorn sighed and passed Tommy a cup of lukewarm cocoa.

"I know your adopted family were also muggles, Tom, but I'm certain they'd be very proud of how far you've come as a wizard. I'm not certain how finding the Chamber of Secrets will make things better for you, but I have no doubt you'll be able to do it."

Tommy ignored the dregs of cocoa to fix Slughorn with a look. He caught hints of nerves and doubt, and distaste for the muggle war. There was no sign of Slytherin, or his locket, or the tree. Still, it couldn't hurt to ask.

"Sir, professor, I was speaking with one of the Ravenclaw ghosts, and I heard something very strange about Slytherin. She told me he went mad and was put in a tree. Is that true?"

Slughorn guided Tommy to a seat and took one opposite, a steaming new cup of cocoa for himself.

"That is an old story, and I'm not certain as to the truth of it. They do know that Slytherin was very old by the time Hogwarts was established, and there is certainly no grave or monument to him. The other Founders all have known resting places. It was a peculiarity for historians for a while. Marvolo Gaunt, when he was at school, claimed that his ancestor had found the key to immortality! But Marvolo was also a bit," Slughorn stopped and tapped the end of his round nose, his moustache twitching. Tommy finished his thought for him.

"He was also mad. So you don't think Slytherin's been imprisoned in a tree, like in the legends of Merlin, do you?" Tommy said. Slughorn shook his head, moustaches fluttering now.

"If there was, it would be all but impossible to know for certain. You'd have better luck finding the Chamber of Secrets on your own."

After this, Slughorn ushered him to bed. Alfie and the others were asleep, but Tommy stayed up a long time. He could try asking the ghostly lady again, but he doubted she'd help. She clearly had no interest in living people.

If only there was a way to summon ghosts. If only he still had…

"Liz's ouija board!"

Tommy was so used to being up late reading that it mattered little to be up late doing something else. Slughorn's office wasn't locked when he tried it. He knew Liz didn't sleep early when she was on leave. Grabbing a handful of floo powder, Tommy hurried back down to their common room to kindle a fire. The mantle clock chimed midnight.

"Lizzy?" Tommy whispered, after emerging on the other side of the fire. He was in Aunt Marie and Uncle Stig's sitting room. So was Liz, and so was Alec.

Alec stifled a shout when Tommy's head appeared.

"Tommy!"

Liz covered his mouth with her hands. After a moment, Alec nuzzled her and pulled away.

"Do you want to wake my folks, idiot?" she hissed.

Tommy, doing his best not to flush, said,

"Sorry, didn't mean to disturb you. I need to borrow your ouija board, if you still have it. It's urgent!"

Liz and Alec exchanged a look Tommy knew he wasn't meant to see.

"Don't worry, Tommy. I still have it. Harriet didn't want it back." Liz stood up and smoothed her skirts as she left the room, without meeting Tommy's eye. Alec slid off the sofa and ran a hand through his curls. He looked exhausted, but the usual roguish grin diminished that.

"Liz and I were engaged in a little passionate necking, as the Americans say. I'm being redeployed old man, to stop German warships. Best I can say is we'll be busy a while," he said.

"But you were on medical leave," Tommy said.

"Aye, and now I'm back at it. Gonna give Gerry the heave ho if we can, stop them sinking any more of our ships."

"Here it is," Lizzy returned with the battered cardboard box. She knelt by the fire and Tommy thought she also looked worn. The smell of cigarettes came off her. "Will you be able to take it through the fire?"

Tommy held out his hand and though the flames tugged at him, it too emerged into the McGillicuddy's sitting room. Liz handed off the box with a stern look.

"Don't use it for anything dangerous, Tommy. I can see you have some devilment in mind."

"I was going to show Alfie," he replied, partly so Liz and Alec would return to their romantic selves and partly because it was nearest the truth.

"Hm," Liz said, while Alec snickered, "hm. I should have known better than to leave him watching you."

Tommy pulled faces at her before he returned through the whirling flames. Emerging on the other side, he held the ouija board close for a moment, wondering if it wasn't secretly magical after all.

They'd find out in the morning.

* * *

><p><em>How do you descend from Peverells and Slytherins? Well, no one said Old Sal didn't have a daughter, who was that gal Cadmus wooed and lost.<em>


	14. Spring term 1942

**Trigger Warning: Captain Montgomery. Just...Captain Montgomery (and mentions of suicide and inappropriateness towards minors.)**

* * *

><p>"We need a secret place to use this," Tommy whispered to Alfie over lunch. He'd managed to keep it in until then. By then, his excitement had turned into a living beast squirming in his stomach.<p>

"I've never heard of these. Are you sure it'll work?" Alfie whispered.

"I'm positive. It's worked before."

"Phwoar," Alfie said.

After supper that night, Tommy oversaw the first years' study hall, while Alfie staked out Slughorn's office. Alfie claimed he knew of a secret passage that never got patrolled. They met ten minutes after curfew, Tommy ducking the caretaker, several ghosts and Professor Kettleburn returning from a nightcap.

"You'd better be certain we can do this. If we're caught illegally flooing around, we'll be bunged off to Azkaban," Alfie said.

Tommy took Alfie's hands to stop him second-guessing the operation.

"It has to work! When I came here after I, got the telegram," Tommy needed two steadying breaths, but he continued before Alfie stopped him, "I just stepped through the fireplace. Nothing stopped me then."

"Yes, but there wasn't regulations on flooing then," Alfie replied.

"There won't be now, if we're quick," Tommy said.

He cast the unlocking charm and they crept to the fireplace. Once the emerald flames were higher than Tommy's head, they stepped in and Tommy called for his home.

They appeared in his parents' bedroom. He could still smell them, their cologne and perfumes, hear their distant voices, as though they were in the next room. A lump caught in his throat, but Alfie's soft coo stopped the tears.

"Oh Tommy, I know you must miss them…" he crooned. Tommy wiped his eyes and cleared space for the ouija board on papa's mahogany desk.

"One day I'll find a way to see them again. Meantime, you set this up. There's something I need."

He left Alfie to unbox the board and planchette, while he hunted down that Valentine. It was still too early to attempt to speak to his parents. His soul felt raw with loss. But, they weren't his only allies on the other side.

The drawer with papa's old things, his fencing medals, the silvering photograph he'd sat for when he'd turned 16. The lump choked Tommy again. He'd never asked papa about fencing, it was something papa had put aside to become a doctor. There'd been so many unasked questions, Tommy hated himself for never thinking to ask. He found letters papa'd written to mum, to Uncle Stig. Wanting just one memory back, he slipped out a letter papa'd written to mum.

"To My Dear Cousin Gwendolyn,

You will be shocked that I miss Wales. School isn't the same without friendly faces. All I have is Stig. It must be the same for you and Prue. Sometimes I worry that I've forgotten Buenos Aires. I can't remember the street names, I can't remember the smell of the ocean, the river. You've made me see Wales. One day, I shall show you my Argentina.

Your Hopeful Cousin,

Aneirin."

Tommy sniffed hard, tears falling onto the fragile paper, the fragile promise. He'd never asked if they had visited Argentina, mum and papa.

The Valentine lay at the bottom of a drawer. It still smelled of Bay Rum and yearning. When he opened it, Tommy avoided reading the poem written inside. The ink itself seemed to give off heat and need. Tommy took up the love-knot gingerly. The hair felt thick and glossy, as if it still had some life or passion tied up in its blue-black curls.

When he returned to the table, Alfie sat primly, chin in hand, twirling his wand with the other.

"Is that Valentine for me, Tommy?" he said, looking the part of the coquette.

"Don't be stupid. I need this to summon," he wondered if this wasn't a lie, "summon help."

Alfie shook his head, as if Tommy was a misbehaving child.

"Why can't you just ask one of these Hogwarts ghosts? Why must you insist on your muggle thingies?" he said with a giggle.

"Because Ravenclaw's daughter doesn't know and won't help me, I don't think. This is something secret, so I need someone who'll be able to look around for me, for the tree with Slytherin in it."

"It's completely mad," Alfie said.

Tommy ignored him and placed the love-knot on the ouija board, between the "yes" and "no".

"Hold my hand. We need to concentrate, to summon our spirit guide," he said. Alfie's hands were so warm and soft it took a lot more willpower than Tommy thought.

"I want to speak to the ghost of Robert Montgomery. Captain Robert Montgomery. Please. You came to me once and I helped you catch Lord Fitzgerald's killer. I need your help now."

They both stared at the planchette. The air around it wavered as though super-heated. The planchette spelled out a reply:

"Ha ha ha. The cuckoo's egg needs my help."

Tommy'd had to endure these insults the last time, but Alfie wrinkled his nose.

"Why is it calling you that?" he whispered. Tommy shrugged without breaking contact with Alf.

"He doesn't like that I'm adopted."

"I don't like that you're a baseborn guttersnipe," the planchette spelled. Tommy gave the planchette his best withering glare.

"I was going to help you to see Alec again. Your son. If you continue being rude I shall forget all about that and tell Alec the truth, that his father is a dirty bigot."

The planchette wavered, before sliding over to "no".

"I will," Tommy said, frowning hard.

The planchette stopped vibrating and the air turned frosty, threaded with the smell of Bay Rum cologne. Alfie sneezed adorably, the way a cat would. Tommy shifted in his seat, knowing exactly what the cold and the smell meant.

"You drive a hard bargain, you little bastard," said the voice both like and unlike Alec's.

"You can be helpful without being rude," Tommy replied. The fog from their breathing formed the shape of Robert Montgomery. He still had the belt around his neck.

"If you weren't Aneirin's son…ah but you aren't his, are you, you little weasel?" the ghost said. He snickered when Alfie drew back.

"But that's impossible! I thought only wizards could come back as ghosts!" he said, staring at the ghost. Captain Montgomery grew more solid the longer Alfie stared, and his cruel smile became clearer as well.

"Alright, I'm not here, and I'll return to my private hell, I shouldn't wonder," the ghost said.

Tommy stood up.

"My papa's dead."

The air between them crackled a moment, and the tang of magic touched Tommy's tongue. The ghost sighed.

"Aye, but there's no Heaven for me without him, and no Heaven for him while I'm there."

"That is so dreadfully romantic," Alfie said, threatening to swoon into his chair. The ghost and Tommy both rolled their eyes.

"I can't do anything for you about that," Tommy said, keeping one eye on Alfie's lounging form. "But I can find a way for you to see Alec and Jimmy and Georgette. Don't you want to see them?"

The ghost, who'd also been watching Alfie with a predatory gleam in his eyes, bared his teeth in a smile.

"If you could do that for me, you'd be a truly great wizard," he said, sarcasm thick in his voice. He'd given his son his dimples, his charming smile, but on Captain Montgomery all that turned to bitterness and hate.

"You have my word," Tommy said. The ghost tapped his dimpled chin and gave a scoffing laugh.

"Very well. What do you need of me?"

Tommy gestured at the green fire in the grate and Hogwarts beyond.

"I imagine that you can talk to other ghosts if you meet them. I need you to find someone's spirit, their resting place. It's in a tree somewhere. It'll be a terribly old tree. His name is Salazar Slytherin—"

"—Aye, I'll find your haunted tree for you. And when I find it, what shall I do about it?" the ghost said, with a mocking little bow. Tommy crossed his arms.

"Just come back and tell me. Write a spirit message or something, somewhere I'll find it."

The ghost saluted, clicking his heels as Alec had, but all the while the noose dangled like a grisly necktie and the ghost's smirk turned his good looks sour.

"Of course, my captain," he said. The air turned warm and sweet once he'd faded from sight. Alfie sighed again, fanning himself like an opera diva.

"Oh, Tommy! What a splendid beast of a man! It's a shame he's dead."

"You did notice that he'd hanged himself, didn't you? He was mad and cruel, he'd have done nothing but hurt you," Tommy said. Jealousy left a bad taste in Tommy's mouth. Alfie only stopped his dramatics when he met Tommy's gaze.

"Oh no, don't, Tommy, don't be jealous! We'll find the Slytherin Tree and the Chamber in no time!"

Tommy doubted it, but at least Alfie'd stopped rhapsodizing about a dead man.

Slughorn caught them this time. Tommy'd stepped out of the fire, the ouija board tucked under his arm, when Slughorn walked in with an armful of Potions essays. He dropped them all as he jumped.

"Merlin's beard, boys! Don't you fools realise the risk you're taking, opening a floo connection? You'll be thrown in Azkaban if they found you!"

Tommy and Alfie hid the ouija board behind them while Tommy fished for some excuse.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but since you've let me visit my family before and—"

"—You'll hush that up or you'll get us all thrown out, Tom. You two will serve a month of detentions each, and no more indiscriminate flooing!" Slughorn said, punctuating the last by Vanishing the floo box. Tommy waved his wand so the dropped essays returned to Slughorn's desk.

Alfie'd already flounced out.

"I'm rubbish at Potions, Tom! Don't you speak to me the rest of the night," he said. Tommy was more than happy to burrow in a book, an ordinary muggle book about ordinary things, while Alfie and Orion played wizard's chess.

Although a month of Potions' detentions hurt his pride more than anything, Tommy would find some other means of escaping the castle. He'd pay Grindelwald back in kind.

* * *

><p>They learned about patroni in Defense Against The Dark Arts. Professor Merrythought, although older than Grandmother, was a spry little woman with the bright, clever eyes of a crow.<p>

She'd told them in their first year about growing up in Colonial India, fighting off nagas, and her years in the jungles of Indonesia. In second year, when they covered jinxes through hexes, she'd described the Carter Expedition. Tommy'd been incensed to learn that many magical Egyptian artifacts had been lifted from the British Expedition, only to end up in shops in Diagon and Knockturn Alley.

His enthusiasm for the subject had dimmed since then, knowing he'd be expected to steal these artifacts for Gringotts or the Burkes of the world.

Now that the were old enough to be taught something about the Dark Arts, Professor Merrythought's classes again came to the fore.

"The Dark Arts are ancient magic, the magic of older, more violent times. They will require strong mental discipline to study, and even stronger discipline to overcome. They follow a structure of their own, and it takes a subtle mind to understand their nature," she said, during the introductory class for winter term.

Tommy squirmed in his seat as he raised his hand.

"I thought they were chaotic, and had no nature," he said, once the professor nodded at him.

She smiled one of her rare and knowing smiles. For the very first time, Tommy felt someone else peering into him, sizing him up from the inside out.

"Everything in nature has a nature, it is part of the world of life and death, birth and struggle. It might be a chaotic nature for our tamed, complacent minds, but it is nature. The Dark Arts are the Arts of Nature and Her Cycles."

Professor Merrythought smiled around at the girls in class and continued, "In less enlightened times, muggles called this Women's Magic, and they fought to control and tame it. And it has been observed," here she gave a smirk to the pureblooded boys, "that even muggle women could turn some of the Dark Arts to their advantage. But in this modern world, we've forgotten the Natural and the Dark. We've let it go by the wayside, and our minds are dull."

Tommy looked around at Alfie and Crabbe and Lestrange and the rest. Most looked incensed, even Alfie. Tommy had to hide his grin behind his notebook. This was magic he knew mum would like. This was magic he'd seen before.

"Magic, in the air, in the water, in the land, all around me," he whispered.

Professor Merrythought went to the front of the class and waved her wand so that writing appeared behind her on the chalkboard: Fear.

"Now, I want you to think. Fear is the Uncertain, the Unknowable. Fear is how the Dark Arts can break a wizard's mind and drive him to madness," here she shared another smug look with the girls in the class. "How does one combat fear?"

Tommy caught Alfie grinning at him as Tommy raised his hand. Professor Merrythought looked pleased, for his wasn't the only hand, but his was the first.

"Yes, Davies?"

"It's hope. Hope combats fear," he said. It was the muggle-borns in class who nodded. Ivor Lestrange rolled his eyes.

"Excellent, Davies," she rubbed her hands together as she surveyed them like the mad old bird she was, "and who can tell me why?"

This time Alfie was first to raise his hand. Professor Merrythought looked as shocked as Tommy felt. She waved for him to speak.

"Well, professor, hope is a positive feeling, and you fight negative things with positive ones. Hope, happiness, they're what make spells like the Patronus charm work," Alfie said. He'd learned the muggle terms over the summer, when he'd borrowed actual muggle books from Tommy. Professor Merrythought looked impressed.

"My word, Black, usually you're happier hexing before you think. Five points to Slytherin. Yes, it is positive emotions that can sustain a counter spell against an assault of the Dark Arts. But, as I said, it requires fortitude of a type you will need to hone. Now, the incantation for a patronus is 'Expecto Patronum'. We will work on our incantations and wand work before moving to the nonverbal."

Tommy watched his classmates for a few minutes. Most of the purebloods looked annoyed at being hobbled by the spoken charm. The rest, the muggle-borns and half-bloods, weren't even able to produce an effect, no matter how much they chanted. Alfie nudged him and nodded at Professor Merrythought.

"Shouldn't you show her that you've moved past the verbal incantation?" he whispered, more in awe than jealousy. Tommy shivered and watched Professor Merrythought now. She'd stopped to correct Druella Rosier's grip.

"I should, shouldn't I?" Tommy whispered back, keeping one eye on their professor. She finally moved towards them.

"Well, Davies, your spellwork has always been satisfactory. But what's this, why aren't you practicing the incantation?" she said, reminding him of Grandmother.

Tommy met her bright, cunning eyes and again felt himself being turned inside-out. He had to break eye contact, instead fixing on a point in the centre of the room. Henwen shone bright in his mind. She was Tommy's hope made real, his happiness, Christmases with mum and papa, walking on the beach with Liz, kissing Alfie. Tommy had to screw up his eyes, but he pointed and called to Henwen. People around him gasped. Professor Merrythought clapped his back.

"My word, Davies! A corporeal Patronus, and a rather uncommon one at that."

Someone sniggered, and Tommy heard Ivor whisper,

"Pigs aren't magical enough for that mudblood."

Tommy gulped and cleared his mind before anger took root, dissipating Henwen.

"Thank you, professor. May I be excused? I have a splitting headache," he said. Professor Merrythought quickly dropped her astonishment to wave him out the door. Henwen disappeared as he left.

The ghost met him at the entrance to the dungeons. They were alone here, with everyone still in class. Tommy had to fight the urge to summon Henwen again. Captain Montgomery smiled his shark's smile.

"There is a tree in the forest with a mind of its own. But you'll nae get close. It's guarded by magic more powerful than you know, my wee cuckoo's egg," he said. Tommy drew his wand.

"What sort of magic protects it?" he said. Captain Montgomery laughed and tapped his chin.

"Ah, me, your little catamite is a pretty one. He'd be so heartbroken if you died." The ghost then fingered the belt round his neck, clearly contemplating ways to use it on Tommy.

"Where is the tree?" Tommy tried, pointing his wand at the middle of the ghost's transparent chest.

"Heart of the forest," he replied, one eye on the wand. Then he snickered again, "Not that you'll survive."

Tommy checked his watch. Two in the afternoon, there were still a couple of hours of daylight left.

"I'll take my chances," he said. "You can go. If I need you again, I'll use the ouija board."

"Oh, will you, my captain?" the ghost's smirk was the last to fade, a Cheshire Cat grin. Tommy ran down the stairs and in a bare ten minutes returned to the front hall with his cloak, the two-way mirror and a plan.

The groundskeeper, Ogg, usually patrolled the edges of the forest. Tommy kept an eye out for him, but the smell of burning leaves suggested he was elsewhere. Tommy met no resistance at the treeline.

"There ought to be," he said aloud. This was just like following the path to the sea cave. The way seemed so obvious he wondered how he'd missed it. He took a steadying breath and crossed. Nothing happened. Nothing yet.

The paths were easily found, for the snow had been trampled down. There were dainty deer prints, fox tracks and hoof prints as big as dinner plates. Tommy didn't fear centaurs, but it was still a relief when he didn't run into any. He chose tracks that led deep into the trees, where the snow hadn't piled up.

He found tracks he couldn't identify, save that they were roughly-human shaped. Instead of five toes, the foot ended in a strange cleft, the big toe and the stubs. Centaurs might drive him away, but a troll would just as quickly eat him. Tommy drew his wand.

Although his watch read three, the forest was dark as midnight, with only pearly snowdrifts reflecting the unseen sun. Tommy didn't have to worry about leaving tracks, but where the snow hadn't landed were mounds of forest debris, dry and crackling underfoot.

"Papa would say, mierda-mierda," he said aloud. In winter not even the snakes would find him. The only animal awake to hear him was a winter-starved squirrel. It chittered and barked as he passed under the great tree where it sat.

He paused to lean against the next tree. The trunk was so wide around that Tommy's fingertips barely met. It wouldn't be long now, and he wasn't certain he'd be able to make it out of the forest before nightfall.

"Expecto patronum," he said. Henwen appeared at his side and snuffled around the bases of the nearest trees. "Henwen, you'd know if there was anything dangerous, wouldn't you?"

She blinked her near-human eyes and trotted down the path. He followed her at a distance, watching for anything alert to an intruder. The path began to move gently but irresistibly downhill, and Tommy heard rushing water. The path skirted the lip of a gully, at the bottom of which was a stream rushing with snowmelt.

The tiny stream turned away from the path at an angle, but Tommy followed the track, to where the trees were wider and darker. Henwen kept pace with him, but apart from her and the squirrel they met nothing more.

There were troll tracks crossing the path, but they always moved uphill, away from the heart of the forest. Just as Tommy thought he wouldn't have to cross a troll, he heard it: a shriek too human to be animal, too animal to be human.

"Mierda-mierda," Tommy said to Henwen. She led him downhill, hurrying ahead, while the troll behind them screeched. "Do they follow by scent?"

Tommy paused behind a tree almost as wide as a shed and looked back up the path they'd taken. The troll's shrieks came at regular intervals. A definite hunting cry. Tommy looked up at the tree, but the lowest branches were still too high for him to climb. He'd have to keep running.

The path twisted round the trees, each larger than the last, until Tommy felt he was running between giants' legs rather than a forest. The ground trembled and from high above snow shook loose, landing in soft clumps around him. He stopped and threw himself behind a tree as the trembling grew to a regular rhythmic thudding. Hoofbeats.

"The beast is hunting something! Quickly! Drive it back towards the mountains!" a male voice shouted. Tommy dared to peek around the trunk as the centaur herd thundered past. They all had bows drawn, the leader pointing to the great grey shape in the distant trees. The centaurs released a volley at the beast and found their mark. The troll bellowed in rage and knocked a tree over, nearly catching a centaur.

Tommy didn't wait for the rest, he scuttled over a drift and slid, out of control, down a century's worth of dead leaves, landing in a tangled gully of roots and frozen mud. He lay there, panting, while the thundering and shouts faded away. Leaves and twigs continued to spatter down like rain, but even those soon stopped.

Tommy steadied his heartbeat before sitting up. Henwen stood aways off, blinking at him.

"Henwen? Come along, we need to keep going," he said. Henwen didn't move. "Henwen?"

Tommy brushed more debris off his cloak and sat on his haunches. He felt more than heard a faint but steady rumble.

"Henwen, come along?" he said, but the words came out wrong. They came out in Parseltongue.

"_Who…?_"

It was no more English than Parseltongue, and no mouth, human or otherwise had made it. Tommy heard the question deep in his chest, thudding against his beating heart.

"I'm…Tommy," Tommy said. He stood up and tilted his head, looking up. And up, and up, for the tree he'd landed against had no end. It stretched into forever, wide as a mountain round and knotted like an old man's hands.

"_Tommy…"_

Tommy started to shiver, and the more he tried stopping, the harder he shook. He wanted to scream, but every time he opened his mouth no sound escaped. He wrapped his arms around his chest, the shaking hard enough to hurt.

"Yes, yes, I'm Tommy," he said at last, in Parseltongue. A sour taste hit the back of his throat, but though he wanted to vomit he couldn't do that any more than he could stop shaking to pieces.

"_Boy…_" that voice said. Tommy felt the ground shifting around him as the tree's restless roots pulled free of the frozen ground.

"Please, I've been looking for you, I'm your descendant, I'm your family," Tommy said, pushing the words out before he could vomit.

The roots knocked him on his back, all his breath leaving in a cry. He wanted his wand, but his hands were useless lumps on the end of frozen arms.

"_Boy…family…small boy…"_ the voice sounded confused or wistful. Tommy felt something scrabbling at his thigh and found a root wrapping him tight. Pain burned through his leg as the root tightened its grip.

"Yes! Goizane, your daughter, she, she married! She had children!"

Another root wrapped round his neck. Tommy began swallowing so hard and fast he wondered if he'd be choked by his own tongue. The root tightened until he couldn't speak.

"_Goizane…her blood…your blood…ours…all ours…_"

Tommy shook so hard he felt the root round his neck drawing blood as it stabbed him.

"Please," he tried to say it, shaking until he bit his tongue.

"_Goizane's…ours…_"

Tommy closed his eyes. He tried to picture mum and papa, for he knew he'd be seeing them soon, but the pain in his mouth, the salty blood, drew all his thoughts out with it.

The air split through with a thunderclap. The root around Tommy's neck loosened enough that he turned his head and vomited. The other roots released his leg, so that he could crawl a few feet free before collapsing. Behind him, the thunderous cracking noise stopped. A new sound, a rasping, slithering sound, scratched at his ears.

His fear went through him like an electric current, and he heaved again. A new voice whispered, a voice louder than the tree's, and very much alive.

"Master. Boy of the master's blood."

Tommy rolled over onto his back. He was looking at a snake's pale belly, a snake as wide as the tree and nearly as tall.

"Um, I'm not your master, I'm just Tommy," he said, still in Parseltongue. The snake's massive head, wider than a boat, weaved back and forth. It seemed to be laughing.

"Boy named Tommy, heir of our master, our master now."

"Just Tommy," he said. He reached out, but he didn't know how this snake would feel about being pet like a dog. "I hope, um, that I didn't wake you up. Were you hibernating?"

The snake clearly laughed this time. He couldn't see its great eyes, and found he didn't want to.

"We come to our master's call," the snake said.

"Do, erm, do you have a name?" he tried. Even Henwen had a name.

"We are the Queen of Serpents," the snake said, once it had given this some thought. "And the boy is Tommy."

The snake fell down onto its belly, so Tommy could at last see it head on. It had bright golden eyes, as bright a gold as Henwen was silver. Silver and gold, the snake's body emerald green. Tommy placed one hand on its snout, between the heat pits.

"You're a basilisk. That's…" Tommy had to also search for words. He seemed to have vomited most of them up. "You're terrific!"

"We are terrific. We bring terror."

"Then you're marvelous," Tommy tried.

"We are marvelous, we work marvels."

"You won't be able to come to the castle," Tommy said. He could tell the snake was cheeking him, playfully. Its long black tongue shot out, looking like liquid obsidian.

"The castle is our home, the Chamber is our home."

"The Chamber of Secrets?" Tommy flinched at the volume of his own voice, but the snake's tongue whipped out again.

"Master built us a home worthy of us," It said, with a note of belligerence now.

"Slytherin really had gone round the twist," Tommy said, under his breath. The basilisk drew back, indignant. "No no, wait, you're welcome to live in the Chamber of Secrets, but you can't use the rest of the castle. The…the students," Tommy petered off, feebly. The basilisk shrugged its gleaming coils.

"If Tommy wishes us to go, we will go to the Chamber."

Tommy looked back up the track he'd taken. After squinting into the gloaming, he realised it had grown too dark to see. Henwen had vanished so Tommy ignited his wand tip.

"Alright, yes, let's go to the Chamber. Can you take me there?"

"Tommy goes where he wishes," the basilisk said. It coiled round until Tommy looked at the back of its neck, where a pit indicated the base of the skull. He climbed carefully on, for he had a feeling this would be at least as unpleasant as a broomstick.

"Thank you," he said. The basilisk laughed by flicking out its tongue, before diving back into the trunk of the tree.

* * *

><p><em>Some people have Aluminum Christmas Trees. Some people prefer Epileptic Trees. The Slytherin Tree comes from RedHen and the essays "History of Magic" and "Salazar Slytherin".<em>


	15. Spring Term to Summer 1942

**Trigger Warnings: Captain Montgomery continues being inappropriate**

* * *

><p>The basilisk took a tunnel it had clearly worn down in the centuries since its creation. As it slithered, the darkness and smell of living earth all around, the tang of magic almost like lightning, Tommy grew brave enough to talk to it.<p>

Slytherin had hatched the basilisk before he'd left the school, in a feat of wondrous magic. He'd built the Chamber of Secrets to house all his magical learning and left the basilisk as the Chamber's guardian. However, once Slytherin had been removed into his tree, his daughter Goizane and Cadmus Peverell had taken the greatest of Slytherin's treasures.

"Surely there's something left in the Chamber now?" Tommy said.

"Tomes of great learning, potions the master worked from our venom. Master wished to be as immortal as we are."

Tommy shivered. Slytherin had his immortality, after a fashion, but the cost seemed far too high.

"Well, at least he has you for company," Tommy said, thinking of the great tree.

"We are good companions, but Master has faded in his long imprisonment. He is near enough spent. He will soon be no more. We are gladdened that Tommy has come for us."

"You can be certain I won't be locking myself in a tree," Tommy said. The basilisk laughed, but Tommy tasted its bitterness.

"Master was forced to, in his madness. The three locked him there. Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff."

Tommy shivered again, but he'd spent up all his fear in the forest.

They slipped out of the tunnel into a stony chamber, Tommy heard the snake's movements echoing on the hard walls. His wand tip eventually picked out the walls, but the room was so vast he could only illuminate sections.

"This is our home," the basilisk said.

Tommy slid off the basilisk's back and looked up at it. His wand didn't reach its eyes, but they glittered golden all the same.

"Didn't Salazar ever name you?" Tommy said, hoping the question wasn't offensive. The basilisk tasted the air as it laughed.

"We are the Queen of Serpents," it said. Tommy stroked the nearest part of it he could reach, feeling the smooth muscles flexing.

"Well, I want to give you a name. I could name you after…after my mum. Her name was Gwendolyn."

The basilisk tasted this name and coiled around into a great, scaly basket.

"Gwendolyn? Is this a good name?"

Tommy wiped his eyes and nodded.

"It is, a very good one," he said.

Gwendolyn sighed.

"We will hunt now, Tommy. You may look around, if you wish it. The Master left many treasures here for you."

Tommy lifted his wand higher, trying to throw light as far as possible. As he moved, he shivered. The Chamber's air was cold and wet as a Welsh winter.

"I'll come back. I'm freezing. Please, what do you hunt?"

Gwendolyn lifted her head until it disappeared into the shadowy vault.

"Whatever pleases us. But we will hunt no wizards, nor witches, nor anyone worthy."

"Right. Don't hunt anything human," Tommy said. Gwendolyn's tail shook gently but she uncoiled and slithered into the darkness.

"We will not."

Tommy waited until the slithering faded, and a distant splash sounded Gwendolyn's departure. He turned and trudged in the opposite direction. The Chamber reminded him a bit of a tube station. His wand light fell on pillars and the cobblestone floor. After he'd wandered so far the walls vanished, he turned on the spot.

"Point me," he whispered, wondering if something would happen. His wand spun in his palm before pointing, it's far end glowing red. "So, if that's north then, er, I'll walk until I meet the wall. Expecto patronum."

Henwen joined him, and in her light he could make out the ornate patterns on the floor. While not as elaborate as some of the old churches or museums he'd visited, the stone had many paths traced out. He chose one that wound in the general direction pointed out for him. Henwen's light illuminated many piles of scroll cases, finely wrought and as thick as his waist. Although most of the cases looked tarnished, the ones near the tops of the heaps gleamed as silver as Henwen. Tommy found one of the smaller ones and seized it. He'd open it later, with Alfie and Slughorn.

Eventually he came to a round door rather like a bank vault. It was closed, but Tommy put his hand on the frigid metal.

"Open sesame?" he said, in Parseltongue. It opened with a brief flash of green light.

Beyond the door stretched a length of pipe, which ended in a ladder. Tommy climbed it in darkness, for Henwen had returned to his chest. When he reached the top and found a dead end, he hissed again in Parseltongue, "Open sesame!" with more confidence. The door opened into what appeared to be a loo. Tommy climbed out and turned to find a gaping hole where a sink ought to be. Just as he glanced in the mirror and found himself covered in grime, the door opened and a fat little girl toddled in, wailing.

She stopped dead at the sight of him.

"You're in the girls' loo!" she said, pointing at him. Tommy turned around to face her and block the hole, but the sink slid into place as he moved.

"Um, yeah, I got dirty and needed to clean off," he said.

The girl screwed up her nose and then pinched it.

"You stink! Boys! Go use your own loo!"

Tommy pulled a face at her as he exited, bumping into a group of giggling girls just beyond the door. They all stopped to stare at his filthy appearance.

"Right, I know this is a girls' loo, I just got mixed up," Tommy told the girl in front. She had curly hair and wore a Ravenclaw crest.

"Aren't you a prefect?" she replied, rolling her eyes.

"Not quite," he said, wiping slime off his Slytherin crest.

"We'd lose House Points if we looked like you," the girl said, with a hint of a sneer. Tommy crossed his arms and raised his chin.

"A pity you still look worse," he said.

The girls all groaned and glowered, but the curly-haired girl flounced off, her cronies falling in behind her.

Tommy hurried to Slughorn's office after wiping off the worst of the filth. He tried buffing the scroll case as well, revealing more tarnished silver. Slughorn threw open the door at the first knock.

"Tom! You had me worried, Tom! And you have a record of skivving off already, I could only cover for you for so long, worried you'd done another runner…" Slughorn stopped prattling to take in Tommy's dirty robes and the scroll case. "Where have you—"

"—In the Chamber! I've found it, and I brought this as proof."

Slughorn's jaw dropped, but he recovered enough to clap Tommy on the back.

"Well, well, my boy! This calls for a toast." And he pointed his wand at two goblets in a curio cabinet. They filled with ruby-coloured wine and one drifted to Tommy. He raised his glass while Slughorn cleared his throat and ruffled up his moustache. "To Tommy Davies-Maldonado, first-rate wizard and explorer extraordinaire! Your parents would be proud of you, Tom."

Tommy took a sip of the wine, to cover for any sniveling. They sat down and Slughorn gently took the scroll from Tommy's hand.

"Let's have a look at this. If this was part of Slytherin's research…ah! Yes, see, here is his crest," Slytherin said, indicating a seal wrought in silver, holding the scroll case shut. It reminded Tommy of the old Celtic knots he used to see everywhere in Wales. Often these knots were worked into the Welsh dragon, but Slytherin's was a tangle of serpents.

"There were hundreds more. We'd need to hire an expedition to get them all out," Tommy said. His excitement dulled as he sipped more wine. He couldn't stop thinking about what his parents really would say if they'd known. And what would mum say, knowing he'd named a snake after her? "Sir, is it alright if I just go to bed? I know classes are over, and I'm so tired."

Slughorn had been examining the case for every minute detail, muttering spells over it. He nodded and then frowned.

"I'll have to take off ten points for your skivving, Tom. But give another fifty points for your discovery. In the morning we'll go see Professor Dippett about the Chamber." Slughorn clasped Tommy's hand before sending him away. Tommy knew they'd have to alert someone sooner or later. They might get every meddler involved at this rate, and then what would happen when they saw Gwendolyn? At the door, Tommy paused.

"Sir, there is a basilisk, in the Chamber. She's there to guard the treasures."

Slughorn went pale.

"A b-basilisk? Merlin's beard, Tom! But how on earth did you kill the beast?" he said.

Tommy wanted to be sick again, but his stomach had shrunk to the size of a walnut.

"I didn't, sir. She's quite friendly. I know it's dangerous, but," Tommy stopped while Slughorn started spluttering and dithering. When Slughorn composed himself with a gulp of wine, Tommy added, "Sir, we can't kill her. I named her after my mum, and that would be wrong."

"We'll discuss this with the Headmaster in the morning, Tom."

As Tommy left, he caught Slughorn clutching his heart and pouring out another generous measure of wine.

He heard soft singing from the dormitory when he entered the common room. He'd used the communal showers while everyone was at supper, not being hungry despite the kernel of fear in his belly. A man sang in the Highland style, the sort of love song people from long ago sang. He recognised the voice after a verse and opened the door to find Alfie being serenaded by the ghost of Captain Montgomery.

"…The sweetest kiss that e'er I got was from my Dainty Davie…" the Captain crooned. Alfie sighed but then he spotted Tommy in the door. Alfie jumped out of bed, his cheeks rosy, crying,

"Tommy you absolute dog! You've been gone ages!"

He threw his arms around Tommy's neck and clung. Tommy rubbed his back, wondering if he should kiss him and hating the ugly look on Captain Montgomery's face.

"He thought you'd run off and left him. He's a pretty one, your sweet boy," Captain Montgomery said.

Tommy put one arm firm round Alfie's waist and placed himself between Alf and the ghost.

"Thank you for finding the tree, but I don't need you anymore," Tommy said. Captain Montgomery's laughter could draw blood.

"A pity you survived. You owe me," he said, once the laughter died away. Tommy's breath came out in white clouds between them.

"Alec is on the Continent, fighting the Nazis. We're going to go find him, but we don't know where he is yet. We're not supposed to," he said. At his son's name, Captain Montgomery's cruel manner melted away and his voice went soft, his eyes clouded in memory.

"You'll find my Alec? The Hun hasn't killed him yet?" he whispered.

Alfie finally stopped his dramatic sobbing to look first at Tommy, then the ghost.

"Why would the Huns want to kill your son?" he said. Tommy laughed.

"He means the Germans. They won't. We're going to find him first," he said. The ghost shrugged at last and faded to a wisp in the frigid air.

"When you find my Alec, promise me you'll call me back," he said.

Alfie grabbed Tommy by his cheeks and kissed him. The room warmed up much faster then.

* * *

><p>Sluggy called Tommy to his office immediately after breakfast. Professors Dippett and Merrythought joined them shortly, both of them carrying cups of tea or toast slices.<p>

"Now, Tom, I want you to explain what you've been working on apart from your studies," Professor Slughorn said, winking too much and gesturing at the scroll case, which was protected under a bell jar.

Tommy shifted on his feet. He wanted the wine now, but as he couldn't have that the memory would have to do.

"Professor Dippett, Professor Merrythought, erm, I've got something odd to tell you, it's awkward. Erm, I found the Chamber of Secrets."

Long before he'd stopped talking, old Dippett squeaked and Merrythought seized Tommy in one of her piercing looks. At the mention of the name, they both made noises of disbelief. Tommy indicated the bell jar, and with Slughorn's wink of approval, he removed the scroll.

"And I removed this as proof," he finished. When they saw Slytherin's seal on the end, Professor Merrythought came closer and took the scroll without asking.

"It has Slytherin's mark. Did you open this, Horace?" she said, nodding at Slughorn. To his credit, Sluggy looked affronted.

"Nonsense! The honour belongs to our Tom, here. He went through untold dangers to find it."

Tommy shot Slughorn a look, willing him to leave Gwendolyn out of it, and mercifully he stopped short.

"Davies, this is highly irregular, most unusual. I heard from several of your professors yesterday that you missed class. You were ill," Dippett said, very likely so he could avoid awarding Tommy points for skivving. Tommy never let the scroll case out of his sight. Professor Merrythought was studying the tarnished silver so closely, tapping it sometimes with her wand, that she appeared deaf to the rest of the room.

"Sorry, professor, I was ill, but while I was, was in the loo, I found…the entrance to the Chamber," Tommy said, when Dippett cleared his throat.

"Galatea, is there anything to that relic," Dippett said, unable to look at Tommy without a disapproving frown. Professor Merrythought responded to her name with a murmur.

"Ah, this is ancient magic, Headmaster. I wonder how young Davies ever managed to penetrate the Chamber."

The way she said it, the way they both looked at him, it was as if he was little better than a grave-robber. He might just as well have kept it quiet and sold the contents of the Chamber to Burke. Tommy drew himself up and took the scroll case back from Professor Merrythought. She didn't chide him, but her look suggested she wanted to.

"Open sesame," Tommy said, in Parseltongue. The scroll case split apart at either end and Tommy unfurled a long scroll, still bright with ink. It was written in Latin and Greek, and a language Tommy didn't recognise, but had some hint of Spanish.

When he looked up at the room to show his professors, they were all staring, dumbstruck.

"He's, the boy's a Parselmouth," Dippett whispered. That he didn't cross himself seemed the bigger blessing.

"Yes, like Saint Patrick or Salazar Slytherin," Tommy said. Professor Merrythought nodded and looked round at Sluggy and Dippett.

"Well, it stands to reason that being a Parselmouth would help," she said, with a wry little shrug. When she studied him, she resembled a crow so much Tommy wondered if she'd peck out his eyes.

"It's a family trait," Tommy said, leaving it at that and willing Slughorn's silence. With a tremulous little nod, Slughorn agreed.

Dippett and Merrythought looked at each other, before rounding on Slughorn. They whispered while Tommy turned back to the scroll. His Latin was shaky enough, but this new language took up large sections. Each passage was divided by a multicoloured border, traced out in the same Celtic snake knots.

"Davies?" Dippett said at last. It was a wrench to look back up.

"Sir?"

"Davies, due to the extraordinary nature of this discovery, we will need to verify much of the work. It will keep until the summer term, but if you would like to be a part of the team…and your contributions will be invaluable," Dippett said, giving Tommy a respectful half-salute.

Tommy didn't need to think about it, but he bought time anyway, biting his lip and closing his eyes.

"If it is in an apprenticeship capacity, then I will, professor," he said. Slughorn murmured his approval.

"Very well," Dippett said, wagging his finger at Tommy, "but there will be no more skivving class, Davies. You'll derail any chance at Head Boyship if you continue."

Tommy nodded along, all the while tracing his fingers along the illuminated writing. If only it were Parseltongue. Dippett and Merrythought muttered some more with Slughorn before they left.

"Tom, my boy, you'll want to keep that safe. Haven't got a Gringott's vault, have you?" Slughorn said, coming to Tommy's side and patting his arm. He gave a soft "oh" of wonder when he looked at the manuscript.

"Can you read it?" Tommy said. Slughorn shook his head.

"More's the pity. It doesn't look like it's all Latin. I was never a diligent linguist, Tom. Here, we'll floo Gringotts and have this deposited in my vault."

"Sir, I am doing a runner, I have to. There's so much I have to do," Tommy said. Slughorn shook his head and gave Tommy a pitying look.

"To be young again, Tom. Believe me, the things we want to do, and the things we need to are often very different. Time enough for your schemes later."

Tommy sighed too. Slughorn couldn't understand.

* * *

><p>Tommy knew he'd passed his exams. He'd never doubted Slughorn, for after the Chamber incident Slughorn had taken even more of an interest, often talking about getting Tommy in with "the right set". Alfie, too, claimed he'd do well for himself.<p>

"Even if I don't get all twelve OWLs next year, mother and father have promised to apprentice me in the Dark Arts when I'm seventeen. If the war isn't over by then, I'll go and curse Hitler myself," Alfie said.

It was the last day of exams, and they'd both exited Professor Dumbledore's two hour torture session. Tommy knew about the twelve uses of dragon's blood and used it to argue that alchemy had a continuing place in the regular Hogwarts curriculum. It might be the one exam he earned something less than an O.

Liz wrote to him using the owl he'd sent to find her. He wondered how often post owls were mistakenly shot by Germans.

"Dear Tommyknocker,

Alec is in France, we think. I think he's working with the Resistance, but I could be wrong. I am as well, it's for ma. Wouldn't be a proper Belgian if I didn't do my bit to bash the Hun in. There's been an awful lot of funny rumours in the Resistance. We've been hearing about disappearances, for some reason it reminded me of your lot. People said they'd be flying over a section of forest in Hungary and they'd vanish. At first we thought it was Germans shooting them down, but I've been asking and it seems the Germans lose planes the same as we do. Something very strange is happening.

Don't you dare do anything stupid. Lady Edmondes expects you home!

Love, always, Liz.

P.S. Don't ever use magic pigeons. Those I know Gerry kills."

Alfie and Tommy spent their free time cuddling almost openly now, and no one did more than give them queer looks. Once Druella Rosier asked Alfie to dance with her, and to stop his brother teasing he'd relented. Tommy watched them dancing to the new gramophone with only a twinge of jealousy.

"Tommy, I say, we have a few weeks left before the end of term. Don't you think we ought to try finding Alec?" Alfie said. This time, Tommy lay his head in Alfie's lap, curled up together under a shady beech. Though the roots reminded him of the Slytherin tree, Tommy said nothing. He left the tree in his nightmares.

"I've been wondering about that. They want me to open the Chamber of Secrets once the summer's started. But I will go and help Liz and Alec. If I could, I'd even bring Gwendolyn."

Alfie snorted in laughter. When Tommy'd told him about taming the basilisk and naming it after his mother, Alfie'd been horrified, but by the end he nodded along with Tommy. "It's the sort of thing you'd do," he'd said, giggling.

Mentioning Gwendolyn usually made Aflie laugh and this time was no different. "Oh really, how are you planning to get a bloody big snake all the way over to…Ruritania or wherever Grindelwald is these days?"

Tommy kissed Alfie's hand has he stroked his face and neck.

"I'd use floo powder. If we made a fire big enough, she'd pass right through."

"You're mad to try," Alfie said, with the sort of look that meant he thought Tommy's madness was lovable.

"I'll do it anyway. Would you come, if you could?" Tommy said. Alfie shrugged and for the very first time since Tommy'd known him, Alfie didn't giggle or flash pink, sweet dimples.

"Oh, Tommy, what would I do? I'm not brilliant like you, and I'm no muggle soldier, like Lizzy or her Alec."

"You're a wizard, and one of the Noble and Most Ancient Blacks. Surely you'd know all about fighting the Dark Arts?" Tommy said.

"Father and Mother make it their hobby to practice them, you wart," Alfie said, his smile thinner than usual.

"You'll come. I want you to."

Alfie lay down beside him. They clasped hands.

"Alright, you dirty dog, I suppose if you ask me then I shall."

* * *

><p>Sneaking into a girls' loo shouldn't have been difficult. Unfortunately, they'd staked out the lavatory on the third floor where Tommy'd emerged from the Chamber and there was never a moment it went unoccupied. Usually the fat little Ravenclaw girl went in for a good cry.<p>

It got so tiring that Alfie eventually got fed up and marched into the loo once the gang of girl bullies had chased the girl into her usual stall.

"You in there!" Alfie called, Tommy tugging his arm the entire time. "You're going to come right out this minute! I'm sick of watching you cave in to those bullying brats!"

The fat girl stuck her head out of the stall, glasses spattered with tears.

"Or you'll what? You'll hex me? Well isn't that just lovely, I shouldn't think! I'm already used to it," she said,

Alfie blinked for a few moments, while the fat girl studied him, and then peered at Tommy.

"You're that boy from before, the very dirty one. Why are you following me around?" she said, a whine in the offing.

Tommy couldn't tell her the truth, but his ability to lie on the spot was shaky on the best days.

"We're, we were doing some castle excavation," he said. The girl sniveled and wiped her nose on her sleeve.

"That's ridiculous, why would anyone want to come in here to excavate?" she said, her voice muffled.

Alfie gave Tommy a nudge as he chuckled.

"Well, you're in here aren't you? What's your name, anyway, if we're going to carry on this tedious conversation?" Alfie said, shrugging like the aristocrat he was. The girl scowled and wiped her glasses off. Without them hiding it they could see her severe acne.

"I know who you are, you're one of the Blacks, those Slytherins," the girl said, studiously avoiding looking at Alfie. She'd gone pink around her ears.

"Mm, yes, I know and we're the tops. You will tell me who you are, won't you? And why those wretched girls keep bothering you?" Alfie said. The girl flushed a definite shade of magenta this time.

"M-my name is Myrtle," she said. "And they've always teased me. Ever since first year, when I spilled frogspawn on the first day of class. It's been one long nightmare here!" Tears threatening to muss her glasses, Myrtle turned away so Alfie wouldn't see. Tommy and Alfie exchanged looks, before Tommy said,

"Why don't you fight back? You could…put that toenail hex on them."

Myrtle peered over her shoulder at him, her glasses glinting.

"What toenail hex?" she said.

Ten minutes later, Tommy and Alfie heard the shrieks of a group of girls with their toenails threatening to burst out of their shoes. Alfie doubled over, cackling.

"See if that Hornby wretch bothers our Myrtle again! Ooh, I'm fond of her, poor spotty thing. We need to take her under our wing, show her why Slytherin is the winning House and Ravenclaw is for oddballs and misfits."

Tommy shrugged and turned his attention to the tap. He was certain he'd located it, and a quick, "open sesame" in Parseltongue confirmed it. The smell coming up from the pipe was enough to gag them both. Alfie clutched Tommy's sleeve, pinching his nose.

"You can't expect _me_ to go down _there_," he said. Tommy had to pry his fingers loose.

"Don't you want to see? I'm sure there's treasure."

"The locket and the ring were stolen, so there's nothing worth finding," came Alfie's tart reply.

"This coming from someone who ought to appreciate tomes of ancient lore," Tommy said. He lowered himself onto the ladder and climbed. After a moment, Alfie's silhouette blocked the pipe above.

When they'd both reached the ground and ignited their wands in unison, it was much easier to see. The tunnel went only a short distance before it came to the closed vault door.

"I'm getting the heebie jeebies," Alfie said, echoing something he'd heard in a song. Tommy took a step forward and raised his wand. The vault door had the great worked 'S' of Slytherin on it.

"Alfie, you know that Gwendolyn's a basilisk. Her gaze could kill you. I'll just go in ahead and make sure she knows not to kill you, alright?'

Alfie crossed his arms and pouted.

"Why are you immune?" he said, the threat of a tantrum in his tone. Tommy laughed.

"I'm not sure. I'll ask her. But she's nice to me, and she promised she wouldn't kill any wizards. And who could be more wizardly than one of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black?"

Alfie's adorable pout did shift somewhat, but he closed his eyes when Tommy opened the door.

"Gwendolyn? It's Tommy," he called. The Chamber seemed even more vast without Gwendolyn's bulk filling it. Tommy moved along one of the paths, which wound between more piles of scroll cases. "Gwendolyn?"

"Tommy wishes to see us?"

Her voice came to him out of whatever dark, safe place she hid in. He heard water sloshing and then her bulk slithering across the stone.

"Were you in the lake?"

"We hunt in the lake, we eat the merrow and the grindylows and kelpies," Gwendolyn said, sounding full and content. His wand light fell over her gleaming wet scales, throwing sparks off the emerald and jade green.

"I want you to meet one of my friends. He's a very worthy wizard," Tommy said, patting her gently. Gwendolyn tasted the air. "Is there a way for him to meet you without dying?"

Gwendolyn coiled and uncoiled as she thought.

"We could look one way, and he could look the other," she said.

Tommy laughed.

"That'll have to do," he said. He ran to drag Alfie in.

Surprising both Tommy and himself, Alfie did take interest in the many scrolls.

"There could be _anything_ in them!" He pointed at the many ornate cases, the hints of precious stones gleaming in the tracery, sparkling octarine.

And his shock over Gwendolyn's enormity quickly turned to delight, although of course he could only address her tail.

"She's splendid! Truly a Queen of Serpents!"

"A most worthy wizard!" Gwendolyn declared, although Alfie couldn't understand her any more than she could him. When Tommy told him, Alfie glowed.

After that, Alfie wanted to ride on her, which Tommy couldn't dissuade him from. Gwendolyn seemed flattered.

"It is a rare wizard with the courage to face the Queen of Serpents," she said. So, while they slithered the length of the Chamber, Alfie describing what he saw at the top of his voice, Tommy poked around the piles of scrolls. The more he looked, the easier it became to imagine the Chamber in Slytherin's heyday.

There must have been bookcases, long decayed or worm-eaten. There might have been work tables, for Tommy found beakers and alembics in among the scrolls. There were a few scattered coins. Tommy found a metal box with a handful of gold galleons, some of which were partially turned to lead.

"Was Salazar an alchemist?" Tommy called. Gwendolyn charged passed, Alfie clinging to her back and laughing like a lunatic.

"Master worked many potions in his prime," Gwendolyn replied.

"It's so bizarre to hear you speaking Parseltongue," Alfie called. He slid off Gwendolyn's back into Tommy's arms.

"It's the only way I can speak to her," Tommy said. He hid Alfie's face from Gwendolyn, but she tasted the air and slithered into the dark. Pressed to Tommy's chest, Alfie cooed,

"Oh Tom. I just know you're going to do something stupid and heroic. You and your basilisk. You aren't leaving me behind this time! I want to help! I can even produce a patronus!"

Alfie'd made his fox patronus out of the memory of Christmas, or so he claimed. Professor Merrythought and Tommy had other ideas.

"We still need a way to find Liz. I don't think regular floo powder will work now that she's on her mission," Tommy said.

Somewhere in the dark, Gwendolyn returned to the water with a gentle splash.

"Gwendolyn? Do you know if Slytherin had any spell to travel?" Tommy called.

In the silence and the near dark, their breathing sounded frail and small.

"The Master's great knowledge is here," Gwendolyn said. Then she'd gone.

"Well, I guess we'll have to read," Alfie said, sighing. They grabbed an armful of scroll cases each and hauled them up.

It took only a few days for Tommy to locate a translation charm, speeding their research up considerably. However, it was Alfie who found the famous, ancient traveling spell.

"But it's completely mad, it's not simple like floo powder, you need to speak the incantation thrice, it says and you need a piece of earth from the place you wish to go. Then there's the matter of moving more than one person," Alfie said. He had his scroll open across the floor of their dormitory and pointed out the traveling spell to Tommy.

"Slytherin really did a lot, in his time," Tommy said. He'd found a number of Slytherin's alchemical formulae, although none of them had isolated the Quintessence. He'd also found a complex incantation that seemed to indicate some form of self-transfiguration. Slytherin had named this "apotheosis". He also had one scroll that wouldn't translate, no matter what language Tommy tried. The best he could manage was "Panotika".

"He might have done a lot, but then he left it all in the Chamber. I'm telling you we could have used some of these alchemical formulae for ending the goblin monopoly of silver," Alfie said. The Black family fortune seemed to rest on silver mining, or so Alfie sometimes muttered.

"This incantation isn't in Latin. It's in that language Slytherin used, some sort of Medieval Spanish-Welsh-ish," Tommy said, lapsing into a fit of Alfie-like giggling.

"Maybe it's Splelch," Alfie said, joining in.

"At any rate, we'll let Liz know with regular floo powder if we can, that we're coming," Tommy said.

* * *

><p>Slughorn was always happy to have Tommy stop by these days. They usually discussed books or expeditions famous in the muggle and wizarding world. They didn't mention Tommy's apprenticeship, nor did they talk about his family, either family.<p>

"I've been missing my cousin, Liz," Tommy said this time, after Slughorn had poured them tea. Slughorn always looked sympathetic, his moustaches drooping.

"You'll see her soon, won't you, Tom?"

Tommy hung his head.

"Well, she's on an important mission, for the war effort," Tommy said. Slughorn blew a massive sigh as he refilled Tommy's cup.

"And I suppose you want to floo her and make certain she's safe?"

"I do, sir. Alfie, Alphard Black, and I have two-way mirrors, but Liz doesn't, so there is no other way for me to find her."

Slughorn handed Tommy an envelope, one finger on his lips.

"You know we'll begin official excavations in the Chamber when you return," he said, very much as though he knew what Tommy and Alfie were up to.

"I do, sir, and I promise to come back. It is my inheritance, after all."

In the common room, they had to wait for Druella and Cygnus's end of exams party to burn out. They played all of Tommy's American records twice, along with some of the French and Spanish ones donated by other students.

It was after three when Slughorn came around to shoo them to bed, conveniently ignoring where Alfie and Tommy shared a single seat.

"Quickly, before someone gets the bright idea to sing about nightingales in Berkeley Square and bluebirds in Dover," Alfie hissed.

Tommy'd already cast the floo powder into the fire and called Lizzy's name. He heard the Reveille blowing as he exited into the front room of an old house. Lizzy was smoking by herself, curled up beneath a window. There was no furniture.

"Tommyknocker! I thought I told you not to get involved?" she hissed, butting out on the floor and crawling over to him.

"What's been happening? Where are you?"

"Somewhere in Ruritania, we had to land to do some recovery. Our boys were flying over when they disappeared. The villagers here are part of some sort of Resistance movement," she whispered. The Reveille had ended.

"Look, Tommy, it's really dangerous here. I don't want you getting mixed up in this war," she said.

Tommy saw it behind her eyes, in her tense neck, the stink of cheap cigarettes.

"Alec's been captured. He's one of the missing pilots." Liz's gaze went right through him. He didn't wait for her to reply. "Liz, you have no idea how dangerous it really is. Me and Alfie, we're coming to help, and we're going to use magic." Liz didn't protest, so he smiled. "You'll see us soon, I expect."

She leaned forward and placed a kiss on his forehead before he disappeared, smelling of cigarettes, her skin cold. He fell backwards into the flames, the last thing to disappear was Liz's face.

* * *

><p>"You'll want to travel carefully, you're both still underage," Slughorn said. He pulled his moustaches when Alfie started to complain. "Hush, Alphard. That traveling spell is untraceable, I'd bet my Order of Walpurgisnacht on it. And you'll have to leave me a two-way mirror."<p>

Alfie glared at Tommy. The indignity of it had kept Alfie muttering under his breath all evening.

"Of course, professor. We'll go and then we'll come back. If it works, we'd be able to continue looking for Grindelwald," Tommy said, with a quelling look for Alfie.

Professor Slughorn shook both their hands as they left his office.

"It wasn't so very long ago that boys younger than you two were fighting the forces of darkness," Slughorn said. He insisted on one last drink, toasting their eventual return.

Once they'd left, Alfie turned to Tommy, who could read all Alfie's misgivings behind his eyes.

"It was like he wouldn't see us again," Alfie said.

"We are about to try hunting down Grindelwald and finding my family treasures. It's understandable that he'd worry," Tommy replied. They made their way to the girls' lavatory quietly, for it was almost curfew. "And he doesn't know we're taking Gwendolyn with us."

"He should have said we're mad to try, I'd have listened then."

* * *

><p><em>Nothing says "maturity" like two kids going off to fight Nazis. Yes I'm well aware how cracked that is.<em>


	16. Ruritania 1942

_AN: The next story arc is technically a crossover. I will not be changing the story's metadata over it. Just be aware that we're in crossover country now. Crossover with what, you ask? Keep reading..._

* * *

><p>Tommy smelled living earth, heard the scurrying sounds in the forest floor. He opened his eyes, still clinging to Gwendolyn's back. Alfie sat beside him, one arm hooked through Tommy's.<p>

The famous, ancient traveling spell had worked.

They'd cast it together, Alfie and Tommy, clinging to Gwendolyn and reciting three times in that strange language of Slytherin's. Tommy had one of Liz's letters with him, one she'd sent after she'd begun her work in Ruritania.

Tommy lifted his head and surveyed the forest they'd arrived in. The trees looked just as old and wide as the ones in the Forbidden Forest. The green, living smell was much the same. Even the unfamiliar birdcalls had a touch of home. The dappled green light had the fresh feel of morning.

Alfie slid off Gwendolyn's back first. Tommy followed him, carrying a new mokeskin satchel. They'd both packed for this journey, some food, some water, their cloaks and wands and a scroll case each. Alfie had the traveling spell included in a scroll about Slytherin's journeys, the beasts he'd encountered and the charms he'd used for protection. Tommy had the scroll he'd managed to translate as _Pnakotica_. He hadn't made too much headway beyond that.

"Just like you to call that light reading," Alfie said, when Tommy'd pulled it out of a pile.

Alfie had another two-way mirror, which he took out now.

"Professor?"

Tommy held his breath, one hand on his wand, the other on Gwendolyn's side. Her breathing reminded him of the distant sighing ocean.

"It'll be very dangerous, Gwendolyn," he whispered. She flexed all her long length.

"These woods are ancient, even to us," she said. "But there are no dangers yet."

Alfie crept toward the sound of Tommy's voice, eyes shut, one hand flailing for safety.

"He's not answering yet," Alfie whispered.

They started as a crow cawed above. Gwendolyn hissed and reared up into the trees.

"What if Grindelwald can turn into a bird animagus?" Alfie whispered. Tommy took his hand with a squeeze and a sigh.

"Gwendolyn will still be able to kill him with one look, crow or human," Tommy said. They heard muttering from the mirror and Alfie held it up.

"Alphard? Tom? Did the spell work?"

Alfie giggled as usual and it was prettier than birdsong. Tommy nodded and took the mirror, hands cupping Alfie's.

"It did. We're here in a forest. Liz was in a house when I flooed her, so we're going to go look for a village. There must be one nearby."

"This is the very last time I will tell you this, knowing you boys will have made up your minds. You are not to get involved in the war effort. You may ascertain that Officer McGillicuddy is alive and then you're to come straight back to Hogsmeade! Incidentally, Tom, I managed to tellyphone your Grandmother. Lady Edmondes says she's pleased about your grades, all of which are looking to be 'Outstanding' and she's invited me round for tea if I am next in Glamorgan Vale."

Tommy had to cover his grin by coughing gently.

"You'd like her, professor. Grandmother keeps a very fine style at Crossfields," he said.

Slughorn patted his belly and smoothed his moustaches. Tommy knew he was dreaming of all the candied pineapple a woman named Lady Edmondes might possess.

"Be that as it may, I would rather not be the bearer of any bad news to two such distinguished families as the Blacks and the Edmondes."

Alfie scoffed as bravely as any Gryffindor.

"You won't have to worry, Professor. We'll be back before you know it, and with Slytherin's lost treasures to boot!"

Slughorn pulled his moustaches in mock disapproval, while Tommy laughed. Gwendolyn's hissing broke into their happiness.

"There is magic here, bad magic, magic all around," she said. Alfie and Slughorn both heard her noises, but they looked at Tommy without fear.

Tommy couldn't bring himself to tell them.

"Alf, you might want to cast some protective enchantments," he said, instead. Alfie nodded and circled behind Gwendolyn. Tommy went in the other direction, but Gwendolyn's deadly gaze was protection enough for the moment.

"Where is this bad magic, Gwendolyn?"

"The land here is poisoned. We feel a taint in the land, in the air."

Tommy patted her side, feeling her muscles coiling.

"You're the Queen of Serpents and I'm sure nothing can harm you. Will you stay here and wait for us, somewhere safe? Alfie and I are going to look for our friends," he said. Behind him, Alfie finished weaving his protective spells.

Gwendolyn bobbed, tasting the air and thinking.

"We will find a lair here. Tommy will call for us. Our servants will bring Tommy's words to us."

Tommy patted her goodbye before watching her slither down the rise they were on, deep into a ravine. Alfie took his hand.

"We can't stay here after dark, even with the spells. Who knows what sort of creatures are around?" he said. Tommy cast the Four Point spell and gestured north.

"We'll go north until we either leave the woods or come to higher ground. Then we'll at least be able to see," he said.

"Wish I had my broomstick," Alfie muttered.

They trudged into the forest gloaming, wands out and ready for any attack. This was Grindelwald's country. Who knew what magic he'd lain on the land to make even Gwendolyn nervous?

The ground moved gently uphill as they walked, and the trees around them grew tall and thin. The sunlight came down in green and gold dapples. It looked beautiful enough, but the tang of magic grew heavier the further they walked. They crossed a road without reaching the end of the forest. Tommy decided they'd double back and follow the road, which was heavily rutted enough to suggest frequent use.

"We'll go downhill," he said. Alfie agreed with a shudder.

"This place gives me the creeping shivers. I just know there are werewolves," he said.

They didn't have to walk very far before the road cleared the forest and led down into a valley.

Tommy'd seen pictures of the Russian Steppes and the view was a powerful reminder that they were no longer in England. In the blue distance he could see mountains, at their feet were huge swaths of yellow plains that rose to meet the distant heights. A patchwork of toy villages swept to the feet of the mountains.

Tommy took a few steps out into the open and noticed the road sign. It wasn't English, but once he cast the translation charm on them, they both read: "Stregoicavar: 5 miles".

"Stregoicavar? What an awful name!" Alfie said, with a squeal.

"Well, it's the nearest town and we're losing daylight. Once we get there we ought to tell Slughorn. Maybe we'll be able to use the traveling spell with Liz," Tommy said.

They were only a mile down the road when a mule-cart came up on them. The driver drew up beside them and peered down. Tommy knew they must look strange: two teenagers in school uniforms and traveling cloaks.

"Hullo," Tommy said, in what he realised was a Hungarian dialect.

The little old man high up on the seat drew a wand and pointed it at them. Without having to speak the incantation, his spell ripped open their cloaks, revealing the Hogwarts crests on their vests.

"Ah, I thought you were English!" the old man spoke English with an accent similar to Aunt Marie's. "And Hogwarts students! Dear Hogwarts," the old man laughed and pulled his impressive muttonchops and stroked his even more impressive beard, "tell me, how is Albus?"

"Professor Dumbledore?" Tommy said, taken aback. The old man's affectionate smile gave way to more laughter.

"Yes, your professor! Tell me, did you boys come here on his orders? Are you hoping to join the war effort?"

Tommy and Alfie looked at each other.

"Erm, who are you, sir, that we'd join _your_ war effort?" Alfie said, drawing himself up with all the haughtiness being a Noble and Most Ancient Black gave him.

The old man laughed and doffed an imaginary cap.

"I am a humble traveller on the road of life. I have found the way both difficult and rewarding, perhaps more difficult as of late, but then again the worthiest causes were never easy."

Tommy and Alfie caught each other's eye.

"_I_ am Alphard Rigel Black, of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, and I demand to know your name, sir," Alfie said. Tommy repressed a grin and the old man didn't bother even with that.

"My name is Flamel. I doubt you youngsters would know about an old buffoon like me," he said. Alfie shook out his curls, but Tommy cut over him.

"I have heard of you! You're an alchemist." Tommy turned to Alfie and whispered, "He's very famous, Alf."

"And not so deaf either," Flamel added. Alfie wrinkled his nose but Tommy smiled at Flamel and put one hand on the wagon.

"Sir, we're looking for some friends of mine. They're RAF pilots, and one of them crashed here," he said. Flamel gestured into the back of the wagon, so Tommy clambered on. Alfie remained where he stood.

"Those planes aren't crashing, boy," Flamel said, for the first time since drawing his wand looking ominous. Tommy managed not to shiver at his tone. Alfie took a step even further back.

"What do you mean? Why should we go with him, Tommy? For all we know he's working with Grindel —" Alfie said, but Flamel barked,

"—Nonsense! I, work with that barbarian?"

A shock ran up Tommy's arm, originating from the octarine air around Flamel.

"Don't be stupid, Alfie," Tommy said. "Of course you wouldn't work with that man. He's an evil sorcerer," Tommy added the last to Flamel. Although he'd stopped giving off shocks, the air around Flamel continued to shift between purple and green so that Tommy saw afterimages of Flamel before his eyes.

"He's more than evil, our Golden Tyrant. You boys won't survive the night out here. Come along, Perenelle will have food for you, good cabbage soup and new bread, come!" Flamel waved his arm at Alfie and a gust of wind scooped Alf up, depositing him in Tommy's lap.

"How dare you cast spells on one of the Blacks!" Alfie said, once he'd squirmed off Tommy, pink from his ears to his neck.

"I remember your forbearer, John Dee. A great man, a bright thinker. I taught him while he was at the Sarbonne," Flamel said, ignoring Alfie's pouting and scowling.

"Sir, please, you said the planes didn't crash," Tommy said, before Alfie could pitch a fit. Flamel clicked his tongue at the mules and they proceeded at a gentle, steady clop. Tommy had the feeling Flamel, hunched over the reins, didn't want to discuss the uglier details.

"Grindelwald has taken his war to the mundane world. It will soon be too late for the Confederation, for any magical peoples, to stop him," Flamel said.

"But you're fighting him, aren't you?" Tommy said. Alfie'd, who'd spent much of the ride in sulks, took his arm.

"Do I look so old and incapable of fighting?" Flamel said over his shoulder.

"No!" Tommy sat up, trying to meet Flamel's gaze, "No! I want to fight too, I want him to stop killing people."

Flamel let the reins go, but they remained floating in the air of their own accord. He turned around and peered between his knees at them.

"What did he take from you?" Flamel said. Like Professor Merrythought, Tommy felt that gaze cut right into him. There was even less to fight, for any resistance hurt deep in the place where mum and papa were. Flamel nodded, their faces as clear to him as to Tommy.

They rode in silence until arriving in Stregoicavar. As they drove into town, Flamel pointed to a pair of hills in the distance. The forest was so thick between them that they seemed to be cut in half by shadow.

"That is where our Golden Tyrant makes his court," Flamel said. Before Tommy could get a proper look, a woman shouted for him,

"Tommy! Alfie!"

Tommy turned to see Liz running at him from one of the houses on the square. He leaped off the cart and they met in a fierce hug.

"Liz! Liz!"

"God almighty, Tommy! I told you not to do anything stupid!" Liz cried and laughed at the same time.

"And I told you I'd help," Tommy retorted.

When they broke apart, Liz held out one hand for Alfie. He'd hung back, still haughty and out of his depth.

"Come on, Alfie. Give us a hug. I thought I told you to watch out for this idiot," Liz said. Alfie's mouth twisted but he stepped away from the cart and took Liz's hand.

"I'd rather eat dirt," Alfie said. He stepped in close to hug Liz, sandwiching Tommy at the same time. When Tommy couldn't breathe any more, they stepped apart, all three laughing without smiling.

"Alec's been captured by Grindelwald. Why didn't you tell me straight away?" Tommy said, giving up the pretense of laughter. Liz shrugged, the smell of cigarettes coming off her.

"I didn't know for certain until this lot found us. We're not supposed to share those kinds of details with someone not in the Resistance," she said.

Flamel stepped out of the house where Liz had been and beckoned them over.

"Perenelle has supper on. Come, and we'll scold you boys properly afterwards." He stepped over the threshold, shouting, "Perenelle my dear, we have guests! John Dee's great-grandson!"

Liz hooked her arm through Tommy's, and Alfie did the same, frogmarching into the house.

The inside was lit with old-fashioned lamps and smelled of soup and bread and centuries of log fires. Tommy didn't see any telephones or wireless, nothing even remotely modern. Not even a calendar for the current year.

An old women stood over a cauldron hanging in the fireplace, stirring with a massive wooden paddle. She had her hair hidden under a colourful scarf and like Flamel gave the impression that her extreme age was a sham.

"Nico, you will let me feed them before you talk their ears off," she said, without turning around. Flamel rolled his eyes at the room, wagging his beard.

"Yes, my Nellie. There are two handsome young boys for you to make a fuss over, my darling."

Tommy didn't want to sit down, and by the look on Alfie's face the feeling was shared. Liz looked comfortable enough. She'd pulled out a seat for Flamel before the window and added three more.

"Come on, Tommyknocker. We need to figure out what you lads can do."

"Do?" Tommy moved closer to the chairs but didn't sit. He kept a hand on his wand. "I told you, we're here to fight."

Liz and Flamel nodded at each other, while behind them Perenelle coughed meaningfully.

"Are we going to have to stay here the night?" Alfie said, staring around at the old-fashioned lamps hanging from the ceiling on chains and the corn-cob brooms in the corner. "You don't mean to tell me those old twigs fly, do you?" he added, pointing at the brooms. Tommy kicked him.

"Alf!"

While Flamel and Liz chuckled, Perenelle said, her back still to them, adding spices to the cauldron,

"Of course! A witch wouldn't be a witch without her broom and toad and wand."

She turned around and pointed at them. "Sit!"

Tommy sat. Alfie, grumbling, followed. Liz hopped up to pass around heavy earthenware bowls and tin spoons. Once they all had their seats, Perenelle took a wand out of her embroidered apron and waved it. The cauldron stopped steaming, and each bowl filled magically with hearty-smelling and thick soup.

"Eat!" she added.

Tommy caught Liz's eye, but she winked and took a mouthful. Tommy did the same. It wasn't too hot, but just right, and as delicious as it smelled. All the questions he'd been wanting to ask seemed less important while he ate, and even Alfie'd stopped scowling.

They used fresh country bread to clean the bowls. Only once Flamel had his pipe lit and Perenelle had sat down with an afghan on her knees did Tommy feel questions bubbling inside him again.

"Liz says they've joined the Resistance," Tommy said, to Flamel. He blew a smoke ring the way Gandalf might and leaned forward in his chair.

"They have. It was impossible for the armies to ignore when their squadrons go missing with no radio, no distress signal. Not even any wreckage."

"We've got a Russian team helping us. All 'gels', they call themselves the Night Witches," Liz added. She took out a cigarette. Tommy's eyes watered at the blue smoke in the room and the memory of papa's sweet Spanish cigarillos.

"What has been happening to the planes?" Tommy said, trying to forget the smell of sweet tobacco.

"We don't know," Liz said. Alfie scoffed.

"What, you came all the way here and you don't know?" he said.

"Well, we don't know for certain. Not even Flamel knows, do you?" Liz said the last to their host. Flamel tamped down more of his stinking weed and drew a few puffs.

"I have suspicions. At my age that is as good as knowing. I've been telling Liz's commanding officer that there's no way of knowing for certain without allowing someone to be captured. And we don't want that. The Golden Tyrant hasn't been kind to his captives," Flamel said.

Tommy tasted the change in the air this time, when Grindelwald's title was mentioned.

"Is he…torturing them?" Tommy tasted bile and regretted eating so much soup, but whatever spices Perenelle had used, the nausea was beaten back before Tommy could be properly frightened.

Liz hugged herself, cigarette forgotten in her hand.

"We know he's…using them. I just want to know Alec is alive. We'll work on whatever he needs when we've got him back," she said.

"Using them for what?" Alfie said, with a look of concern that surprised Tommy.

"The Golden Tyrant believes in the supremacy of blood. Not that blood isn't potent in its own way, for all magic runs through our blood. But he's been using it the way Countess Bathory, Vlad Tepes had. He's foolishly attributed blood with power, and power with blood," Flamel said.

Tommy had to swallow hard, but he couldn't be frightened while Perenelle's soup worked its homey magic on him. He wished he'd had this when he'd lost mum and papa.

"Alec has to be alive. You wouldn't be fighting if you thought he wasn't," Tommy said. Liz laughed, or made a noise like laughter.

"Even if he's gone…me pa and ma didn't raise a coward," she said.

"He can't be gone," Alfie whispered. He took Lizzy's hand and smiled. The pretty dimples worked and Liz relaxed, butting out the bitter cigarette.

Flamel watched their clasped hands, before looking at Tommy.

"The young have always been brave and quick to fight injustice," he said. He gestured for Tommy to stand up. Tommy did and realised he'd let go of his wand. It must be the soup. Flamel drew him aside, saying, "we appreciate your being here. But I must make very clear to you the danger you will face. I will not insult you by saying you are too young or too unlearned in magic. The Golden Tyrant has made this everyone's war."

"He killed my grandfather too," Tommy added, before he could regret it. He then wondered if they'd dosed him with Veritaserum.

Flamel clucked and opened a small door beside the fireplace. It led into an alchemical workshop. Tommy followed slowly, while Flamel cleared aside yellowing scrolls and the oddments of his workings.

"He's killed a great many. It has only made him stronger, the brittle strength of his tyranny. But that is not the only reason to fear him," Flamel said. He gestured at a something hanging on the wall, hidden under a cloth. "Before I show you this, Thomas, I must be certain of your resolve. This isn't for the faint-hearted. This isn't for the foolishly brave either. We are fighting something that requires more than bravery."

Tommy had to pass this test, whatever it was. When Flamel met his gaze this time, it didn't hurt, not the same way. They went through the spiral of Tommy's memories and wants and fears. He saw papa and mum disappearing into fire, Gwendolyn's golden eyes and emerald scales. They saw the mean little ghost of Marvolo Gaunt and the darkness dispelled by Henwen and the human warmth lighting her from within. Tommy smelled all these memories, heard them, tasted them. Each memory lasted a heartbeat, but with all the visceral reality intact. The ghost of Captain Montgomery, who'd called him a cuckoo's egg and baseborn whelp when he'd only been eight. Abuelita visiting from Argentina. The very first time he'd caught a snake and shown it to mum.

"I'm sorry," Flamel said, when he closed his eyes, breaking the ache of memory. Tommy gasped and nodded, but thankfully he couldn't cry yet.

"No, it's alright, I've done this before," Tommy lied. Flamel patted his shoulder and gestured at the cloth.

"Remove that and look into the glass. Tell me what you see."

Tommy didn't. The tang in the air was enough to tie his stomach in knots. His heartbeat thudded in his ears, harder than it should or could. He tried reaching for the cloth, but the air around it was full of needles of magic.

"Go on, you must do this on your own. I cannot lift it for you," Flamel whispered.

Tommy steeled himself. This was for Alec and for mum and papa and Maisie and everyone already gone. He ripped the cloth off.

He thought it was a mirror too tarnished to reflect anything. Then he realised that it was another Foe Glass. The depths swirled like his memories, swirling with golden crackles of lightning. Tommy knew it was supposed to show him his enemies, but the longer he gazed into the swirling eye of magic, the more he realised he wouldn't see a human face.

At last Tommy swallowed, his throat parched as though he'd been in a desert for years. How long had he been staring into that golden storm?

"Why can't I see anything?" Tommy asked Flamel, unable to turn away from the Foe Glass for all that it made him sick to look into.

"Oh, you are seeing. What you see is your enemy. That glass will never lie to you," Flamel said. He had to replace the cover when Tommy wouldn't move. "Have you seen the yellow sign?" he said. Tommy started and at last looked at something human.

"Yellow sign?"

Flamel took Tommy by the shoulder and led him back into the sitting room. Perenelle and Liz were having coffee, judging by the scent in the warm air. Alfie had curled up on the day bed. Tommy realised he'd been freezing cold only when his body ached for the warm fire and the cosy afghan Perenelle had set aside.

"We'll discuss it in the morning. You and Alphard have come a long way, and the nights here are dangerous. You are our guests tonight, Thomas. I promise in the morning it will be safer to speak."

Tommy hated believing him. Liz hugged him again and pushed him into the chair she'd vacated.

"I have a shift on watch tonight, kiddo. I'll tell my commander about you two later, or she'll want to quarantine you till we can prove you're British citizens," she said.

"She won't make us leave, will she?" Tommy said. Liz handed him a blanket.

"It's not that she won't want to. She can't. When we finally got here, we realised the sort of fix we were really in. Flamel and his lot need all the help they can get."

"That man has made it dangerous for magical and mundane alike," Perenelle added.

Tommy shuddered again, but once he'd pulled the blanket around himself, he felt instantly drowsy. Liz and the Flamel's murmured in the distance, but Tommy tumbled slowly into sleep and soon couldn't hear them.

They were having a picnic and someone special was coming. Tommy sat between papa and mum and each of them took one side of the big red and white picnic blanket.

"Everything will be so lovely, Tommyknocker," mum said.

"You know how proud we always are of you, mijito gatito," papa said.

"Who is she? Who's coming?" Tommy said, pointing at the fourth place.

"She's already here, Tommyknocker," mum said.

"She's with you, gatito," papa said.

Tommy awoke crying harder than he'd ever cried in his life. His nose had swollen until he felt like a melon had sprouted on his face. His eyes stung from the lingering smoke in the air. He gasped and choked and couldn't stop, even when two small, warm hands wrapped around him.

"Oh Tommy, Tommy! What's wrong? You were crying in your sleep. Oh, Tommy," Alfie cooed. Tommy let Alfie kiss his cheeks and pat them dry.

By the time the Flamels were awake, Tommy'd convinced Alfie to stop asking him what was wrong.

"Did you have good dreams, boys?" Flamel said.

Alfie nodded but gave Tommy away with a little look and a whimper. Perenelle filled a teacup from a samovar and handed it to Tommy. The liquid smelled like ripe feet.

"Drink it down! I'm surprised my tonic didn't ease your sleep. I made certain you'd both rest well after all the excitement of yesterday," she said, as though she thought Tommy must have cheated somehow.

"I…was dreaming about my parents," Tommy said. Perenelle stopped frowning and looming over him.

"The poor child," she said. She and Flamel murmured together in French, but Tommy's translation charm had worn off by now.

"You boys will have a warm bath while I inform Albus and your headmaster about the situation. I trust you're both qualified wizards, or there will be little magic you can do," Flamel said.

"I'll have you know I passed nearly all my exams," Alfie said. Tommy nodded.

"We both did."

Flamel chuckled. They had blancmange with cinnamon and nutmeg and a spice Perenelle insisted would give them courage. While they ate, they heard the Reveille and women shouting orders.

"Wing Commander Lloyds is on the warpath early," Flamel said.

Someone banged on the door as he finished.

"Flamel, I want a word," a woman said.

Flamel waved his wand and the door opened to reveal Liz, in uniform, behind a woman in a senior officer's epaulets. Flamel and Perenelle both saluted her as she marched in.

She was petite, like mum had been, but the uniform filled her out, and the whole space with it. She saluted quickly and then jerked her head at Tommy and Alfie.

"So, you have picked up miscreants."

"I'm not a miscreant," Alfie muttered, but Lloyds's uniform clearly stopped him from his noisier protests.

"And how exactly do you know these boys aren't collaborating with G.K.?" Lloyds barked.

Flamel gestured with his hand.

"Don't you think we have ways of detecting danger, Commander?" Flamel said. Tommy was reminded of Dumbledore and his mild and annoying rebukes. Commander Lloyds wasn't rebuffed.

"You'll have to share that certain proof with me, Flamel," she said.

When Tommy caught Liz's gaze, Liz nodded for him to obey. As if he'd give Commander Lloyds more reasons to dislike him. Flamel and Perenelle murmured again in French. Then they turned to Tommy and Alfie.

"You boys, you'll know how Veritaserum works?" Perenelle said.

Alfie looked scandalised, but Tommy took his hand and nodded, saying,

"Yes, and we're willing to prove our loyalty to the British Crown if we have to. But we're here to help."

"More wizards is it?" Lloyds said, giving Tommy and Alfie a beady look, but directing the question to Liz. "You know these boys, McGillicuddy?"

"Yes, ma'am, and I can vouch for their character. You wouldn't be able to stop that one fighting regardless, ma'am. He's a war orphan," Liz said, after saluting her commander.

Lloyds's beady look didn't soften, but Tommy noticed her shoulders relaxing.

"Gerry and his Axis have made a lot of those," Lloyds said, this time deigning to look at Tommy.

"What better reason to fight, and stop them making more?" Tommy said, to hide the lump that inevitably rose in his throat.

"Well said. You'll understand why I do want this Veritaserum test as proof then?" Lloyds added, formal again. Tommy squeezed Alfie's hand before releasing it.

"Yes, ma'am."

They both sat down, Alfie grumbling, while Perenelle passed them both more of that ripe-smelling tea. Flamel removed a phial from his lab and added a drop of clear liquid to each cup.

Tommy, praying the potion wouldn't taste foul, took a gulp. The potion settled in him, stirring up words. Lloyds looked from Flamel to Liz and then stood over Tommy.

"What's your full name and birthdate?" she said.

"Thomas Marvolo Riddle Aquino Moore Davies-Maldonado. December 31st, 1926," Tommy said, the potion pushing it all out of him.

Lloyds's mouth twitched and she looked at Liz for confirmation. Liz started when she heard the rest of his real name, but she nodded at her commander.

"He's telling the truth, ma'am."

"And you, boy, your name and birthday?" Lloyds said to Alfie.

"Alphard Rigel Black, October 10th, 1926," Alfie said, sounding rather flat and colorless.

"Are you boys both British citizens?"

"Yes, ma'am," they both said. The answers came without Tommy thinking of them.

"You aren't collaborating with the Nazis or the Fascists?"

"No, ma'am."

"You aren't dark wizards like G.K.?"

"No, ma'am."

"Can you both perform magic?" Lloyds's question seemed to startle Flamel and Perenelle, but Liz didn't even blink.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Will you both perform a simple spell for me," Lloyds said, before anyone could stop her.

"Yes, ma'am," Tommy said, wondering if this would break the Statute but helpless to resist.

"Do so now," Lloyds said.

Alfie drew out his wand and waved it in a circle, drawing a wreath of roses. Lloyds picked the flowers up and sniffed them. Tommy flicked his wand and a trio of linnets fluttered out.

"This is satisfactory for now. McGillicuddy, I want these boys to remain either with you or with the Flamels. There will be no wandering about. We're behind enemy lines, boys. You'll help us best by obeying orders. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Tommy said, feeling as if someone had slapped him.

Lloyds gestured at their teacups and Flamel poured a drop of pitch black liquid in both. When Tommy took a sip, the Veritaserum's hold slackened, releasing him back into his fears and a niggling shame that he'd somehow failed.

"Come on, you two. I've got patrols to arrange," Liz said, clicking her heels as Commander Lloyds exited. Tommy looked at Flamel and Perenelle. Flamel nodded slowly, a frown just creasing between his eyes.

"Go. You wanted to help us, and they will certainly have need of you," he said.

Grateful that he had breakfast to sustain him, Tommy followed Liz out into the village square. They crossed to the town hall which hummed with activity even this early. Alfie yawned and looked at the clock above the town hall.

"Good lord, is it really just past six?" he said.

"Things start early in the military, early birds and worms and all," Liz said.

They were using the village hall for their operations room. Teams of women and some of the villagers (Tommy knew these by their headscarves or colourful bandanas) pouring over papers, isolating a large swath of the forest on a map or listening at what was probably some kind of decoding machine.

"Why would they think those muggle thingies work?" Alfie added, pointing at a telegraph machine. The operator smiled at them when they passed her.

"Doesn't your equipment fail around magic?" Tommy said to Liz. She'd been saluted or hailed by most of the women, all of them in similar uniforms. Most of theirs had less stripes than Liz's.

"It does and doesn't. When it fails, we know we have a dead zone to monitor and for that the villagers use their magic. But when one of GK's lot leaves the area, we can monitor them safely from the air. They've got rail lines through the mountains, and wizards or not they know how useful rails are. We've followed them to the German border," Liz said, gesturing at the various maps.

Tommy and Alfie both peered at some of the markings and little pins. Stregoicavar seemed to be indicated by a little green flag. Various other flags marked mountain passes, or major cities.

"Why would Grindelwald go into Germany?" Alfie said, tracing the line of the Carpathians on the nearest map. Liz swatted his hand away and grinned when he pouted.

"Don't touch that. We're not certain, but from what our code breakers can tell, G.K. is doing a deal with the Nazis. We're certain he's been there in person, and that he's come back with trains of people. So he must have a deal, but they aren't shouting it over the broadcasts," she said.

"Why do you call him G.K.?" Alfie said, rubbing his hand where she'd smacked him.

"It's what he calls himself, the Golden King. He's named Hitler the Lone Wolf, that much we know. As I say, we followed him to the border. It's dangerous to fly over Axis territory during the day," Liz said.

Tommy traced the long line of the mountains with his eyes. They cut through Hungary and Romania, clear all the way into Poland. Grindelwald's yellow flags spiraled out from Stregoicavar, across borders, marching east into Russia and west even to France.

From this view, it wasn't hard to spot a strange pattern to the flags, a sort of inverted triskellion.

"It's like the Nazi sign, but missing an arm," Tommy said. Liz put a hand on his shoulder to draw him away from the map.

"It is, and that's why we're worried. The Nazis might even have got their swastika from G.K. He's been at this a long, long time. Before the war."

Tommy forced himself to look away from that spiraling yellow sign. He thought he'd caught a glimpse of what Flamel had meant.

"What do you need me to do?" he whispered. Liz kissed his forehead.

"You're coming with me on patrol, you and Alf. We have enough wizards to monitor from the ground, but I think you boys will be able to help in the air."

* * *

><p><em>...Lovecraft. We're crossing into Lovecraft country.<em>


	17. Stregoicavar 1942

_Entirely because I like Hayao Miyazaki. Blame Porco Rosso._

* * *

><p>Tommy followed Liz to a small airfield built behind the village green. There were many types of planes, some with British insignia but most with foreign marks. There were Soviet women working on a fleet of biplanes Tommy thought shouldn't be allowed to fly.<p>

"Are these all from the Soviets?" Tommy said.

Lizzy went up to a Spitfire with stripes painted across its metal side.

"This one's mine. We came here as part of reconnaissance and code-breaking. The Night Witches brought the rest, some bombers too," she said.

"You don't think you'll stop Grindelwald with a bomb, do you?" Alfie said, staring at the planes in open disbelief. "He'll have shield spells for this sort of thing."

Lizzy waved around the hangar at the beautiful Spits and ragtag biplanes.

"We've got an idea of that, and where he doesn't. Would you lads like to join us in a little recon right now? We'll need your magic for it," she said.

Tommy wasn't surprised when Alfie wrinkled his nose and shook his head.

"No! Nonsense! I'd rather my broomstick than a muggle plane!" he said.

Tommy had to suppress his exasperation. He got closer to Liz's Spitfire, smelling the petrol and gunpowder and excitement of it.

"I'll go with you in the plane. Imagine Marty and Danny's faces when they find out I went up with you in one of these?" he said, to stop Liz from chiding Alf.

She smiled only slowly.

"Yeah, they were pleased to hear it, they didn't believe I'd make air crew. They wanted me in a Spitfire as well. Alec flew a Hurricane…and will again when we rescue him. They're still with your gran, the Plaskett boys. The Lady wants to adopt them, I think."

Tommy wiped his eyes quickly and laughed.

"I'll bet she does. Let's get up in this, Liz! It's a wizard plane!"

Liz smirked because Alfie snarled in disgust.

"Don't compare us to your muggle contraptions. I'll wait on the ground, thank you very much," Alfie said, stomping his foot.

Tommy caught Lizzy's eye as she made a face at Alfie. When she put on her pilot's helmet and goggles, Tommy didn't recognise her.

"You'd be a big help, Alfie," she said, the goggles making her face bizarre rather than stern.

"Yelyza! You wait!" a woman cried.

A group of four women marched into the hangar, followed by Flamel. He held a broomstick over his shoulder, while the women either had helmets or rifles. They wore Soviet uniforms, jumpsuits like Liz's.

"Yelyza, you'll want for back up, yes?" the lead woman said. She had the same jumpsuit and trousers as the other women pilots, but she was much taller and her shoulders strained the limits of her suit. She reminded Tommy of a Valkyrie, save that her hair was cropped short and tucked under the sort of cap a man would wear.

"Yes, we'll get the lads here to help with a sweep. These boys are magic, they'll be able to do it," Lizzy said. The Soviet women all saluted her as she spoke.

"You haven't flown?" the Valkyrie woman said. She beckoned Alfie over with an imperious gesture that silenced him. He seemed cowed by her obvious strength.

"Not in a plane," Alfie whispered, head tucked in between his shoulders.

"You can fly a broom?" the woman said. When Alfie nodded, she clapped him on the back and laughed, "then you'll be able to keep with us. We are Night Witches!"

While Tommy suspected Alfie didn't like the comparison, he didn't object. Flamel stepped forward and handed Alfie off the broomstick.

"Here you are! A fine old broom, it served Perenelle well! Oak handle with hawthorn twigs. Not as fancy as your modern brooms, but much sturdier," he said.

"Thank you, sir," Alfie whispered. He didn't even object when one of the Night Witches handed him a helmet and goggles. Liz did the same for Tommy, before gesturing at the Spitfire's cockpit.

"You'll ride with me, Tommyknocker. Lyuba will take point with Alfie. Natalya you're with me, flanking, Irina and Olena will guard the rear. Flamel, you doing your bird act?"

"Bird?" Tommy said. He wasn't sure he liked the way Flamel's eyes glittered with cunning. "You're an animagus?"

In reply, Flamel swept open his arms and cawed. A black and grey raven fluttered on the spot Flamel had occupied, before landing and cawing again.

"So it was a wizard, that crow in the woods?" Tommy said. The crow's cawing sounded like laughter. Alfie scrunched up his nose at it.

"Fye on you, Flamel! See if you can't beat me on a broomstick!"

"Come along," Lizzy said, pushing Tommy towards the Spit's sleek body. Tommy scrambled up and settled into the space behind Liz's seat. It smelled like magic and war, gunpowder and petrol and electricity and Liz's cigarettes and perfume. She hopped into the pilot's seat and turned the engine over.

Before Tommy could allow himself nerves, the plane rumbled out of the hangar onto the runway. Behind him, he saw the Night Witches scrambling for their planes and following suit. Alfie mounted the broom and hovered beside the Valkyrie's plane.

Liz said over the radio,

"Spitfire Ace-Toc-Monkey to tower, at runway one. Permission to taxi?"

The radio crackled, and Officer Lloyds's voice came through.

"Affirmative. Do a sweep and report back. Have the boys use their magic."

"Are we allowed?" Tommy whispered. Lizzy didn't hear him.

"Roger that, tower. This is Ace-Toc-Monkey, ready to taxi."

The Night Witches responded with their own call signs. Liz reaffirmed their flight paths, then, without so much as warning to Tommy, thrummed down the runway.

The Spitfire was nothing like a broomstick. Broomsticks were feeble and without protection. The Spitfire vibrated with power, the roar of the engines as exhilarating as it was terrifying. They took off with a tremendous burst of power and a growl from the Spit's engines. Tommy's stomach bottomed out, but Liz whooped and banked hard to their left.

"Want me to do a loop the loop?" she asked.

"No!"

"Killjoy," she said, laughing over her shoulder at his green tinge.

Tommy listened to Lizzy as she directed the Night Witches over the radio, but he couldn't make out much more than their individual call signs. The Night Witches were every bit as good fliers as Liz. Alfie carefully looped Lyuba's pathetic-looking biplane, drew his wand and cast a shield spell around him, then Lyuba's plane. It glittered in the sunlight, as Lyuba flew under the Spit and out towards that dark cleft in the mountains.

Alfie cast spells on the rest of the Soviets before speeding up to wave his wand at Tommy.

"You have a way to communicate with him?" Liz said, over the roaring engine. Tommy took out the two-way mirror and hollered over the noise,

"Alf? Can you hear us?"

He watched Alfie fish for the mirror and then flashed it at them. Tommy could tell, even from this distance, that Alfie was grinning.

"Why, would you with your gorgeous plane want extra help?" he said.

"Alf, cast Disillusion spells on the Night Witches," Tommy said, for the shield spells became visible in direct sunlight.

"How do you say you agree, Ace Pilot Liz?" Alfie shouted.

Lizzy laughed and swept underneath him. Alfie was a much braver flyer than Tommy ever could be. He not only looped Lizzy's plane gracefully, he sent a few golden sparks down over the cockpit.

"You say, 'affirmative'," Liz called.

"Affirmative!" Alfie replied. They heard his whoop even without the mirror.

Tommy drew his wand as Alfie flew back to join Lyuba.

"Liz, I'll Disillusion us, but the plane will still make noise," Tommy said, casting a Shield spell as he spoke.

"Well, it's better than nothing."

The Shield spell glittered briefly, dazzling Tommy but never slowing Liz for a moment. They rose higher after confirming with Commander Lloyds. Tommy dared himself to look out now. The ground below looked unreal, a painted landscape with toy villages and snaking dirt roads.

"Have you ever been shot down?" Tommy whispered. Liz laughed.

"Never. And I was part of a team that mapped Berlin."

Tommy didn't care to ask what that had cost her. He waved his wand, whispering the incantation for a Disillusionment charm. The air around the plane rippled, but Tommy took out the mirror.

"Alfie, can you see us?"

Alfie waved and dropped eighty feet, easily as Tommy walked down stairs.

"I can hear you lot, you and your tin flying machines. But you're lucky, I can't see the planes from below, and the shields aren't so noticeable from far away."

"Right," Liz said, sounding like the commanding officer she was. "We'll need your magic if we cross into G.K.'S territory. Our planes may stall out. Alfie, you must stay near Lyuba and be prepared to cast any spell you can. Her plane will be first into G.K.'S airspace."

"Affirmative," Alfie said, this time with a hint of trepidation. He circled around beneath them and, with a spurt, caught up to Lyuba. They heard him shouting at her, and then he cast a spell, more golden sparks. The sparks appeared to circle the biplane.

"He's got more nerve than I thought," Liz said. Tommy nodded.

The landscape shifted beneath them again, the closer to the mountains they got. Villages stopped and the fields were broken up by longer and longer stretches of forest. Liz took up her radio and directed all of the Night Witches but Lyuba off. As they crossed over the foothills, the engine sputtered.

"Liz?" Tommy said. The Spit dipped as the engine sputtered again.

"We aren't low on fuel. Ace-Toc-Monkey to center, we're about to enter G.K's airspace. I'm taking Sugar-Orange-Vic with me, grounding the rest."

From Commander Lloyds's reply, Tommy guessed the remaining Night Witches were the search and rescue if Liz and Lyuba failed to return. Just as Liz signed off, the radio died and the engine cut out completely.

"Tommy, this bird doesn't glide," Liz said, without one trace of panic. Tommy's stomach plummeted again as the plane dipped, but Liz kept it airborne.

"W-wingardium Leviosa!" Tommy said, swishing and flicking twice before the spell took. Without the roaring engines Tommy became acutely aware of the wind whistling past the cockpit. Liz banked again and looked over her shoulder at him.

"Your spells will last an hour?" Liz said.

Tommy had to gulp and gulp until he'd recovered his stomach.

"Easily. Sorry, Liz, I wasn't expecting it to just die," he said. Liz laughed without humour.

"We had one of the Soviets crash when she tried flying over G.K's fortress. She ejected safely and managed to get back to us. But that Flamel told us he doubted our planes would stay up. And he said we'd need a wizard or witch riding with us to keep the spell going."

"Where is Flamel?" Tommy asked, leaning to look out the window. Alfie glided along hundreds of feet below and ahead, weaving gently back and forth over the glittering sparks that designated Lyuba's plane. As he fished for the two-way mirror, a crow flapped up to the cockpit, its talons scratching ineffectually at the window.

"He's there. He can't cast spells when he's feathered," Liz said, giving the crow a wave. Tommy gestured with his wand and the crow cawed. Without the engines, they could hear it as loud as the wind.

"Has he ever had problems flying over Grindelwald's fortress?" Tommy said. They were over the lower hills now. Liz used the draughts to glide, the crow keeping pace with them now.

"He says that every witch or wizard who's flown over by broom has never come back. That's where he got the idea that G.K. is using the people he captures."

"But what about Alfie?" Tommy said. He kept one eye on Alfie's weaving form. He showed no signs of distress.

"If he has any problems, he'll ride with Lyuba."

Tommy did his best to sound calm and authoritative when he raised the two-way mirror.

"Alfie, Liz says if you have any trouble, you ought to fly with Lyuba."

"What? In her plane?"

"Yes, in the plane," Liz said before Tommy could reply.

"Oh, alright. I'll do it now. You muggles and your rubbishy paper and wood flying thingies!"

Tommy pressed himself to the window as Alfie disappeared into the Disillusion charm. After a moment, he said,

"Here, happy? I'm on this stinking thing!"

They heard Lyuba mutter something quelling at Alfie, before she said,

"Sugar-Orange-Vic to Ace-Toc-Monkey. I have the little baby with me."

"Roger that! Now you two will proceed over the mountains, keeping your current course. Tommy and I will rendezvous with you on the other side," Liz said.

Lyuba and Liz continued agreeing to the route, making sure their flight paths wouldn't cross, before Liz told Tommy to close the mirror.

"We're not landing near his fortress, are we?" Tommy asked, after a few minutes of silence. Being in a plane as powerful as the Spit and hearing nothing but wind and Liz at the controls unnerved him more than he wanted to admit. He imagined Alfie had it much worse in the open biplane.

"No, we're not, kiddo. We're going to get a confirmed visual of it, and the surrounding environs. If we can do that safely, we'll come back with cameras. For now, let's see if your magic holds against G.K's."

"Right," Tommy said. He wouldn't show his nerves, knowing what was at stake if he couldn't control his fear. "Liz, is it alright if I summon my patronus?"

"Your what?"

"Patronus. Here," Tommy said, waving his wand gently. Henwen appeared in his lap, feeling like a warm breeze against him. Liz smiled when she saw it, making Henwen glow.

"Well, she's a beauty of a pig, but I'm not sure what good she'll do."

"Trust me, she's much more powerful than she looks," he said. He whispered into the two-way mirror, "Alf, summon your patronus. You'll need the courage."

"Easy for you to say, you're the one in the metal plane," Alfie retorted. Tommy heard him whisper the incantation and, when he peered out at the golden sparkles, he thought an extra silver sheen appeared.

"What does she do?" Liz asked.

The landscape below them had become iron grey hills and green-black forests. There were no fields or villages.

"She's hope. She'll sustain us when we lose ours," Tommy said.

"When…" Liz echoed him.

They saw the needle of stone rising above the trees, even at their height.

"Brace yourself, Tommyknocker. I'm going to get a little lower, see if we can't make out more detail," Liz said. The Spitfire dropped, the ground rising and revealing more. Tommy spotted a spur line threading out of the mountains, and a clearing where the line ended.

"He brings trains here," Tommy said. Liz grunted.

"He's doing Hitler's dirty work, just like Mussolini and the rest of those puppets."

"Alec's still alive," Tommy said, hoping Henwen wasn't just giving him empty courage.

"Even if he's not," Liz said, and by the set of her shoulders Tommy knew better than to argue.

They felt it as one, Liz gasping but keeping the Spit steady, Tommy clutching his belly as something twisted round their plane. Henwen flickered but remained strong. The tower had few, low outbuildings. It rose out of a mound of earth above the rail sidings. There were decoupled cattle cars, but neither people nor animals in the yard.

"What's doing that, Tommy?" Liz grunted.

"Evil magic," Tommy replied. Henwen flickered again and the wind howling outside sounded like keening children. "Protego!" Tommy pointed his wand out into the empty skies. His shield spell glittered brighter for a moment, before dimming.

"Don't think it's working," Liz said, causing Henwen to falter.

"Liz! Henwen needs you to believe," he said, waving and casting the shield again. Liz's laughter scarcely covered her panic.

"What, and clap if I believe in fairies?"

"Liz!" Tommy reached for her, for the human and living and warm. Magic moved between them at the touch, while Henwen snuffled and brightened.

Tommy leaned to look out again. There was no one visible in the yard and the dark tower had no windows. They swept around the tower, the Spit shuddering as if in a high wind. Liz groaned as she piloted them on the draughts. Tommy swished and flicked and the Spit stabilized for a moment. The tendrils of dark magic seemed to creep into the cockpit, tinting the windscreen and hiding the sun. Henwen's light was the only illumination.

"Tommy, we're going to land on the far side of the mountains, rendezvous with Lyuba and Alfie. I don't know if I can pilot her much longer and it will be a rough landing, kiddo."

"Go! I know you can," Tommy said. Henwen snuffled at Liz and whatever magic she had worked, for Liz stopped making noises of distress and swept the Spitfire down the other side of the mountains. The rail line glinted beneath them, crossing gulches and ravines as it made for the distant border.

After they'd put the dark forests behind them, the engine turned over of its own accord and Liz cursed fluently in Irish and Walloon as she pulled the Spitfire into an ascent. The plane lurched into the climb but though Liz cursed musically, she never let the plane drop.

At last, they were high enough that Tommy couldn't see any details of the landscape, not individual trees and only the blocky shapes of villages. They began descending the moment Liz radioed Commander Lloyds.

"Has Sugar-Orange-Vic radioed in, Center?"

"Affirmative, Ace-Toc-Monkey."

"Mission successful, Center. Ace-Toc-Monkey out," Liz said.

Tommy kept his eyes on the ground as it once again rose up to meet them with alarming speed. He spotted Lyuba's biplane in a field. Two people waved up at him, but only Lyuba's height made her stand out.

"Brace yourself," Liz said.

The Spitfire thunked as the landing gear opened beneath them. It felt like seconds before Liz brought the Spit to touch down, jostling Tommy so hard he bit his tongue. They came to a very hard stop, Tommy crashing into the back of Liz's seat, his harnesses bruising his neck and chest.

"Mierda!"

Henwen seemed to be laughing as she disappeared into his heart. The pain eased.

"Told you it'd be rough. Alright, kiddo, up and at 'em!" Liz said. She popped the cockpit open and leapt out. Tommy climbed out weakly as Liz and Lyuba saluted each other, removing their goggles and helmets and laughing as though they hadn't just flown over enemy territory.

"They're mad, absolutely mad," Alfie said, helping Tommy to the ground. Without another word, Alfie put his arms around Tommy and clung. He continued trembling even when Tommy rubbed his back.

"Shh. We're all fine, they're ace pilots remember?" Tommy said, knowing Alfie wouldn't understand the meaning.

"I think you almost caught us up," Lyuba said, gesturing at her biplane and laughing. They'd had a head start, but Liz didn't point it out, so Tommy bit his tongue and let Alfie continue shaking. "The baby doesn't like flying like a Night Witch, does he?" Lyuba added.

"I'd rather fly in a paper airplane," Alfie squeaked against Tommy's chest. Lyuba couldn't hear him, but she shook her head and raised her eyebrows with Liz.

"He's not so brave, for a wizard," Lyuba said, mostly to Liz. Tommy pulled a face when Liz laughed in agreement.

"Alright, lads, let's hop to it. We're wanted back," Liz said. Tommy had to salute her one-handed because Alfie still hadn't managed to get his shaking under control.

A crow fluttered to Tommy's feet and transformed back into Flamel, his laughter exactly like cawing.

"Come now, these boys will get us all back in one piece, won't you?" Flamel said. Tommy had to pry Alfie loose before he could reply properly.

"What do you mean?"

"You'll use whatever spell it was that brought you here, you and your large friend," Flamel said, winking.

"Oh…the traveling spell?" Tommy said. How long had Flamel been spying on them? He must know Gwendolyn was about. Flamel's beady eyes glittered, confirming without a spoken word Tommy's suspicions. "Alf?" Tommy said, turning away from Flamel.

"…Feel like a mule," Alf muttered. He raised his wand and crossed it with Tommy's. Tommy smiled at him until Alfie cleared his throat and continued, "Affirmative."

They turned to be back to back and swept their wands around them, taking in the two planes, Liz and Lyuba and Flamel. In unison, they chanted the words of the spell, Tommy closing his eyes and picturing the air field in Stregoicavar.

Revolving slowly on the spot and chanting, Tommy didn't stop as he felt the earth around him shift. The ground rippled and rocked. Liz and Lyuba gasped and protested, but Flamel said nothing and Alfie chanted undisturbed.

The air around them changed too. He heard the chiming clock in the clock tower and the shouts of the Soviet women. When Tommy opened his eyes, they stood, planes, people and all, on the grass before the hangar.

"It really is wondrous magic, what you do, Tommyknocker," Liz said, putting her arm around him.

* * *

><p>That night they had a dance in the village hall. The Soviet women had drinks with them, the British women brought records and exchanged cigarettes for vodka. Many of the women danced together the way a man and a woman would, laughing as they tripped and took turns leading. The villagers of Stregoicavar joined in the merriment with fiddles and accordions, the music whirling faster than the couples.<p>

Lyuba and a few of the Soviet mechanics kicked and leapt around so fast Tommy grew sick just watching. Alfie had been asked to dance by several of the village girls and he'd eventually accepted, leaving Tommy to spectate.

Flamel and Perenelle were dancing nearby, managing to keep the beat set by the furious fiddling and mandolins. Lyuba sailed over the head of the accordionist and shouted something in Russian.

Tommy smelled familiar cigarettes and slipped closer to Liz. She was spectating as well, even in her skirt and heels.

"They're happy because you lot are joining up. They think more young men will come, soldiers and fighters," she said. She blew a stream of bitter smoke Tommy knew contained more than tobacco.

"You're a fighter, a proper aircraft woman. I don't think I could ever fly a Spit, Liz, and you didn't blink even when the engines died," Tommy said. Liz snickered and nodded.

"You're the magical one, kiddo."

"You've got magic too," he said. He didn't want to hear this, not from Liz. He'd rather jolly Alfie into flying in a plane again, or get Myrtle to hex Hornby's toenails.

"If there's one thing I do know, Tom, it's that having magic won't help me. I need my brains and my guts, like me pa and ma had. They met in Brussels, Tommy, after Gerry'd razed the city. Both of them thought they'd be dead within the month. Guess they didn't think it'd hurt to have one last fling. Then I came along. Took them guts and brains to get out of that mess," Liz said, blowing another stream and laughing an even more bitter laugh.

"Fine," Tommy said, waving the smoke off. "You've got brains and guts in spades, Liz. And you've got me. Alec says I'm welcome 'round with you lot. He says you proposed to him." Tommy hoped smiling and reminding her of her wedding might work. She did smile, but it didn't improve her humour.

"I did, but only because I was sick of the idiot proposing to me. Making his mum angry cause she wanted him marrying a wealthy 'gel'. Told him he could keep the fancy ring if he wanted to marry me." Her voice broke as she laughed.

Someone had put on an American record. Tommy recognized the tune, A Sleepy Lagoon with Harry James and his orchestra. He'd never considered the trumpet a sad instrument, but the opening note quavered beautifully, long and aching as a human voice.

"Alec loved that one," Liz said.

"He's still alive, Liz," Tommy said.

"Right, and clap if you believe in fairies."

Liz smoked the rest of her cigarettes while Tommy watched Alfie dancing slowly with the village girl. She was just as plump and pretty as Alfie was, with golden hair instead and stockings made of peasant lace. Tommy wished he could be jealous, but he could only feel sad.

After they put on an old tango record, Tommy had to leave. Papa used to play tango for mum. Flamel and Perenelle's house was blessedly cool and quiet after the dance. Tommy lay down on the daybed and didn't dream.


	18. Nurmengard 1942

**Trigger Warning: Godwin's Law gets invoked. Sorry, but Rowling forced my hand with that seventh book.**

* * *

><p>Liz shook him awake.<p>

"Tom, let's get to it! You're wanted for a debrief," she said. Tommy sat up on the daybed while Liz shook Alfie awake.

"Why does everything start so bloody early?" Alfie grumbled.

Tommy would have joined him, but the scent of berries and cinnamon roused him. Perenelle handed him blancmange with wild berries on top and honey stirred in.

"Eat and then you may go. Commander Lloyds will keep you very busy," Perenelle said. By the time Tommy'd scraped his bowl down, Flamel and Liz had already gone. Alfie looked queasy, for once.

"Having second thoughts?" Tommy said as they dressed.

"I'm not brave like you, Tom, or clever. Why did you let me come along on your mad adventure?" Alfie said. Tommy grabbed Alfie's hand before he put on his school tie.

"We're not at Hogwarts anymore, Alf. We're doing something much more important, and I wouldn't want to do it alone," he said. "I want you here with me. I know you can be brave and clever. And if you can't, I will for you."

"You already are, you absolute dog," Alfie said, with the barest hint of a giggle.

They walked over to the village hall as the clock chimed the half hour. Though it was cold and misty, Tommy sensed the warming sun just below the horizon. The shadows of Grindelwald's borders looked denser than in daylight.

"Perfect, you lads are good and prompt," Commander Lloyds said, when they sat down at a table with Liz, Flamel and Lyuba.

"Are we going after Grindelwald?" Tommy said. Commander Lloyds shook her head.

"We're waiting on our expert," she said, gesturing at an empty seat.

"Aren't you the expert?" Tommy said to Flamel, in an undertone. Commander Lloyds spoke with Liz and Lyuba, all three gesturing at a map, and then to a few of the villagers who'd then move flags around.

"I think I have some small knowledge on the matter," Flamel said, but with an infuriating little tweak of his nose.

"What was the purpose of flying about and getting an idea of Grindelwald's territory if we aren't going to attack?" Alfie added, also leaning closer.

"Oh, you youngsters. Plenty of time for bravery and foolhardiness once we've made our plans. Ah!"

Flamel gestured at the empty chair. A glowing kettle appeared over it, and holding on to the handle was Professor Dumbledore.

"Albus!" Flamel said, embracing Dumbledore even though he was far shorter. Dumbledore did the same, but gave Tommy and Alfie a very stern look over the tope of Flamel's head.

"Nicholas! The war hasn't been too unkind to you and Perenelle?"

"We've seen enough, Albus, you know very well," Flamel said. He and Dumbledore took their seats as Commander Lloyds marched over.

"Dumbledore," she said, tipping her head. Dumbledore did the same and looked politely up at her, his hands crossed on the table. Tommy wondered if Dumbledore would take orders from a muggle, but behind Dumbledore's eyes the walls were too high.

"Hmm, glory hound," Alfie muttered. Tommy shared a mean-spirited chuckle with him.

"We had Davies and Black out on reconnaissance with our Observer Corps," Commander Lloyds said, indicating Tommy and Alfie by sweeping her hand over them. Liz and Lyuba, opposite, grinned. Dumbledore made a huffy little noise and smiled.

"I imagine they ran into some trouble in the attempt," he said.

Tommy squeezed Alfie's hand under the table, to stop himself from rebuking a professor.

"Nothing they couldn't handle," Commander Lloyds said, causing Tommy and Liz to share a look. "McGillicuddy was able to get a good overview of G.K.'S fortress and confirm that he has connections to the Reich."

"And what evidence is there of that?" Dumbledore said. He sounded polite but Commander Lloyds would have none of Dumbledore's annoying stuffiness.

"He's run a rail line from the German border right into his compound. We've already observed G.K. and a detachment from Gerry joined him last autumn. They received shipments of construction material and have been receiving shipments by rail since," Commander Lloyds said, without raising her voice but conveying her impatience with Dumbledore by looking over his head.

"Do you know what Hitler would bother shipping out here, into the Ruritanian frontier?" Dumbledore said, also without sounding angry and yet without any deference to Commander Lloyds's previous statement.

"After the first Observer Corps disappeared we have been making every effort to discover that very information," Commander Lloyds said.

Tommy looked at Liz. She watched her CO without a change of expression, but behind her eyes hid Alec. Dumbledore sighed and spread his hands.

"I will make every effort to ensure the safety of my students," he said, nodding at Alfie and Tommy. Tommy bristled and Alfie hissed quietly. "But I'm afraid what insight I can offer may be too little, too late."

"Sir, we can charge you with espionage," Commander Lloyds said, losing all semblance of politeness as she leveled a hard look at Dumbledore.

"I have only conjectures, you understand," Dumbledore said, seemingly unafraid of such a serious charge. Tommy glared at him.

"Conjecture away," Commander Lloyds ordered. Liz and Lyuba came right to attention at Lloyds's tone, and Alfie jumped a little in his seat.

"I knew Grindelwald very briefly when he was still a student. He had an overriding obsession for a weapon we call the Elder Wand. At the time I didn't believe he'd ever find it. I believed the artifact to be legendary, one of three artifacts of power we call the Deathly Hallows," Dumbledore said.

Beneath the table, Tommy threaded his fingers through Alfie's and gave a gentle pressure. Alfie's disquieted expression suggested he knew all about these Hallows. Dumbledore noticed as well.

"Yes, Black?" he said, nodding at Alfie. With the attention on him, Alfie turned pink, but spoke with a confidence Tommy envied.

"The Deathly Hallows are real. They must be. Everyone knows about the Elder Wand. The unbeatable wand!" Alfie said.

Commander Lloyds and Liz looked skeptical. Lyuba nodded and gestured at Flamel.

"We know a sorcerer needs a wand to cast his spells. The Golden King would need a powerful wand to make spells against the land," Lyuba said. Flamel added,

"We've seen very strong evidence of magical tampering in the land and air. During our flight yesterday, both aircraft were shut down when in proximity to the Golden King's fortress. It is doubtful we'd be able to safely bring any mundane vehicles or," he nodded at Lloyds, "weapons to the fortress itself."

"And this is evidence of a magical wand? An extremely magical wand?" Lloyds said, raising her eyebrows at Flamel and Dumbledore.

"Of powerful magic, which very likely could originate with a unique wand, such as the Elder Wand," Dumbledore said. He frowned at Commander Lloyds for the first time.

"Considering the losses we've already experienced, sir, the RAF will want to act on more concrete evidence. And will be involved in any operation against the Golden King," Commander Lloyds said.

Before they could say anything else, Tommy looked at Flamel.

"What about the other two Hallows? Has Grindelwald found any others?" he asked. Flamel shrugged and avoided Tommy's gaze.

"The Golden King hasn't been seen in person in some time. It could be that he is in seclusion for his workings. Or, it could be that those who're brought to him do not see."

"He has the Cloak," Alfie said, in a flat small voice.

Tommy's stomach churned. The Last Hallow, the most fantastical and the least believable.

"Does he have the Stone?" Tommy whispered.

Dumbledore looked Tommy over. He smiled gently, or it appeared gentle to all outsiders. Within Dumbledore's pale blue eyes, Tommy saw for a moment, the truth. He stood up, hand on his wand.

"You're a dog and a liar," Tommy said, before Dumbledore could deny it. Flamel gasped and said something in French to Dumbledore, who waved him off. Alfie'd gone pale and covered his mouth. Commander Lloyds's eyebrows pulled together in a superficial scowl. "That's what you were inquiring about! You knew Grindelwald had something to do with Marvolo's murder! You know he stole something!"

"I had no proof, Tom," Dumbledore said, as if that excused him.

"You needed proof to show someone had killed my grandfather? You could have told someone, you could have investigated!"

"Tommy," Liz said. Her voice came from a long way, through the blood thudding in Tommy's ears, to touch him. "Tommy whatever he says, we're behind you."

"Indeed?" Commander LLoyds said, looking from Tommy to Liz. "I think the boy should control his temper first. But yes, Davies, we're prepared to take action against the Golden King."

"He killed my grandfather and stole a magic ring. If that ring has any power at all, if it can find the last Hallow, then we're all sunk," Tommy said, glowering at Dumbledore and Flamel.

"These Hallows would presumably enable the Golden King to further assist the Reich?" Commander Lloyds said. When no one spoke up, Tommy for glaring at Dumbledore and Dumbledore for glaring back, Alfie cleared his throat.

"The legends say that anyone who can find all three Deathly Hallows would be immortal," he said.

"Hm. Fanciful yes, and problematic enough if true. Davies, get a hold of yourself and you and Black will be with our party when we take the fortress," Commander Lloyds said. Then she waved Tommy and Alfie away.

Dumbledore followed them out into the village square. Tommy rushed toward the Flamels' house, but Dumbledore caught up to him. Tommy turned with his wand readied and pointed at Dumbledore. Dumbledore pushed the wand away with his bare hand.

"Tom, the next time you draw wands against an enemy, be prepared to duel. You're angry now and reckless. I have no intention of dueling you, trivial though I will find it," Dumbledore said. Tommy swore in every language he knew. When he finished, Dumbledore pushed Tommy backwards, towards the house.

"Tea," Dumbledore said.

"Mierda," Tommy said, following after Alfie'd made a few soothing coos at him.

Inside, Dumbledore waved his wand and conjured a full tea, with a samovar and salmon sandwiches. Tommy ignored it even when Alfie moaned and took a sandwich.

"You knew Grindelwald had something to do with Marvolo's death!" Tommy said. It took every ounce of willpower he had to keep his wand pointed at the floor.

"I couldn't know what Grindelwald would want with a man like Marvolo Gaunt. It wasn't until we'd learned he had the Cloak that I realised there was more to Marvolo's rantings than arrogance," Dumbledore said. He too kept his wand in hand.

"Who knows how many other people died before you had your certain proof!"

"Tom, Tom. We're going to stop him," Dumbledore said.

Tommy knew Dumbledore would see any hex he cast well before the words crossed Tommy's lips. Tommy turned around and sat in a chair facing away from the tea. Alfie came over, nuzzling at him, holding half a sandwich and a cup of samovar tea.

"I'll stop him even if you don't," Tommy said. He didn't care if Dumbledore heard or not.

* * *

><p>It took a week to prepare a team for approaching the fortress. Commander Lloyds wanted more data, so Tommy and Liz did another, higher pass, this time with a camera. Although Tommy couldn't make much sense of the aerial photographs, Liz showed him the line of the railroad and the low shapes of outbuildings beneath the tower.<p>

"Where he keeps his prisoners," Liz said.

"We'll find Alec," Tommy replied.

Liz stopped refuting him.

* * *

><p>They'd mobilize, as Commander Lloyds put it, in the pre-dawn.<p>

"You boys have a spell that can move groups? We'll have you take one squad each," Commander Lloyds said. Even though they wouldn't be flying, she retained the WRAF language that Alfie found infuriating and Tommy, exciting.

"They'll be lambs to the slaughter" Dumbledore said, when Commander Lloyds told him it would be two groups of mixed army women and Resistance witches.

"Kindly remember that they're trained to do this, and they have Flamel's Resistance with them," Commander Lloyds said.

It was true that the villagers of Stregoicavar were all magically gifted, even if they used magic differently from the way Tommy and Alfie'd learned. They tended to brew potions and carry folk talismans, but the talismans worked. Tommy witnessed Lyuba repelled by the invisible barrier around one of the Stregoicavar witches. Lyuba landed, catlike, ten feet away.

"Don't you cast spells?" Tommy asked the witch, using the translation charm. She shook her head.

"I'm not nearly powerful enough for a wand," she said.

Liz lead the first group, herself and Tommy with five others, including Dumbledore. Lyuba and Alfie took the second, with Flamel

Tommy noticed that Dumbledore gave Liz much more respect than Commander LLoyds. When she ordered them into a close formation so the traveling spell wouldn't leave them out, he did so with a salute.

"Right. We'll have a half hour's march from the drop off point, all uphill. We'll have cover in the woods. Didn't see perimeter fencing but that means little. We know G.K. has magic. Tom and Dumbledore will deactivate any magic they find. We'll give them cover, especially if Gerry's soldiers decide to make an appearance," Liz said.

The women around them all nodded and saluted, even the village witches. Tommy kept his eyes on Liz as he cast the traveling spell.

They didn't complain as the ground heaved beneath their feet. When it stopped shifting like the deck of a boat, they'd reappeared in the same field Liz and Lyuba had grounded their planes.

"Tom, you will cast that Disillusion charm on us. Then you and Stokes will take point," Liz said, gesturing at one of the WRAF women. Tommy nodded at her before drawing his wand.

The air blew over them from between the hills. Grindelwald's fortress was hidden somewhere between those two folds in the land, but even this far away something sour came to them on the air. It was a moment before Stokes said,

"Smell that?"

Tommy's gut roiled as he said,

"It smells like burning."

"It is human hair," Dumbledore said. He left it at that. After this gruesome announcement, Tommy needed to breathe. He cast Disillusions on everyone, save Dumbledore, who Disillusioned himself.

Liz had the two-way mirror this time, and she gave Alfie the same instructions.

"Liz?" Tommy called, staring at the rippling air that was Liz.

"Go on. You know where we're going."

"Right," Tommy said. He moved forward, carefully, hearing Stokes beside him. They had to stop before crossing under the trees.

The smell of burning hair grew stronger beneath the canopy. Stretches of the forest were blanketed in smoke. They avoided the stinking fug as best they could, but it blew downwind towards them, from the fortress.

"He'll be hiding something, G.K.," Stokes said. Tommy knew what she meant and so didn't reply.

When Tommy looked over his shoulder, the trees obscured the view of the fields. The air rippled gently wherever one of the squad moved. Tommy heard something whisper,

"Big boots! Strong boots!" and stopped behind a tree. The snake slithered into his outstretched hand.

"Please, find the Queen of Serpents. Tell her that we need her," Tommy said. "We're here."

"The burning place," the snake said. When Tommy released it, he heard it crackling over the leaf litter. Then, in the near distance, a man shouted,

"Halt!"

The translation charm indicated the speaker was German.

"That'll be Gerry," Stokes whispered. Tommy waited for the whispers and shift in the air around him, for the rest of the team.

He heard Dumbledore cast a spell,

"Hominum revelio." After a pause, Dumbledore then whispered, "There are four of them. Do you have a plan to deal with them?"

"Yes," was all Liz said. Then she whispered so quietly with one of the Soviet women that Tommy couldn't hear the rest.

"Who goes there?" the man shouted. They heard people moving closer before they saw them.

Nazis. They had to be. They had bucket-like helmets and gold stripes at their collars. Tommy clenched his teeth, holding back fear as well as anger. Then: Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Red sprayed the air and all four Nazis fell before Tommy could properly understand.

"Jesus! That's loud enough for everyone to hear. Let's go, before their back-up shows up," Liz's voice came from a foot away.

"Da, Yelyza," the Soviet said.

Tommy heard Dumbledore tut-tut, but he didn't slow them down.

"Davies, can you cast that spell again?" Stokes said.

"I can," he said, before Dumbledore could do anything about it. "Hominum revelio."

After a heartbeat, Tommy felt the air around him ripple. Four more Nazis, further off but moving towards the noise. Beyond them two more men. Beyond that something writhing, oily and screaming.

"Six more, a group coming to the noise and two off near the…gates I think," Tommy said, just loud enough for everyone to catch. Liz swore under her breath.

"Olga, Svetlana, you two will stay and put down the Germans. Tommy, Stokes, Dumbledore, Chambers, let's go, or we'll give away the snipers."

Tommy felt for Stokes' arm and tapped her. She tapped him back and whispered, "Right-oh."

They were within sight of the rail line when they heard four more pops. The two Nazis in the depot came out, guns drawn.

"Those were shots, you idiot!" the first man said.

Tommy and Stokes crouched in the ravine that ran alongside the rails. The air rippling along the shadows told him where the others were.

"Don't be stupid, the commander has magic," the second man said. They both had their guns at their side. The first man took a step onto the rails and looked down towards the valley.

"Can magic stop bullets?" the first man said.

"We'll find out," Stokes said, quietly. Tommy heard her draw her weapon.

Pop!

The first Nazi fell across the tracks, his side bloodied. His partner pointed into the woods above Stokes and Tommy and fired off a few rounds.

"Just get a little closer, you damn Kraut," Stokes whispered. Once the man realised he had no target, he threw himself into the depot. Someone leapt out of the ravine and Tommy heard Dumbledore's voice,

"Stay your weapon! Imperio!"

From inside the depot, the second Nazi came out, hands above his head. His face was slack, eyes glassy. Dumbledore appeared in front of him and he barely registered any shock. Liz and Stokes and the rest rippled into view.

"What are you doing?" Liz said, marching over to Dumbledore, stepping over the flailing Nazi on the rails.

"Witches!" the Nazi gasped. His teeth were bloody. He tried to cross himself, but he floundered as his uniform turned black all along his right side.

"We're taking these two prisoner. They'll be able to tell us something of the layout here, and what goes on inside," Dumbledore said. He waved his wand at the dying Nazi and the soldier stopped flailing in pain. With a second wave, the Nazi too went blank-faced.

"You'll inform me of any change in plans, Dumbledore," Liz said. She gestured at the two Nazis. "Stokes, relieve them of their weapons and radios."

"Yes ma'am," Stokes said.

The Nazi who'd been shot had difficulty getting to his feet, but he let Stokes and Chambers remove his gun, rifle and radio.

"Do you think they called for help?" Chambers asked, holding up the radio.

"They didn't," Dumbledore said. He nodded at Liz and then, to the Nazi he'd captured, said, "Tell the truth."

"I did not radio for help," the Nazi said, in accented English.

"Good. I take it you have control of them?" Liz asked, turning to Dumbledore.

"I do. It will last. Might I suggest showing these two boys some clemency?" Dumbledore gestured at the second Nazi.

Tommy's stomach jolted again when he realised that beneath the stupid helmet was a boy only a few years older than himself.

"You may, but we're not the Sisters of Charity, Dumbledore. If they try to kill us, we put them down. Understood?" Liz said.

"Affirmative."

Liz jerked her head at the two Nazis. They stared at her, as blank as peeled potatoes.

"You two, are there any defenses around your base?"

"Yes," the first Nazi said.

Liz only had to gesture for Stokes and Chambers to point their guns up the tracks and step carefully aside.

"What sort of defenses?" Liz continued. She glanced over her shoulder and so did Tommy. They heard leaves crunching as two pairs of feet ran toward them. Tommy raised his wand, but Dumbledore put a hand up.

"Wait, those are the Soviets."

"They're alive!" one said. She ran up to Liz and pointed her gun at the two Nazis. "The ones we killed! They stood up again as we were coming back!"

"They came back from the dead?" Tommy said. This could only mean that Grindelwald had the Stone.

"They did. Svetlana is coming now. Should we kill them?" Olga said, still aiming at the uninjured Nazi.

Liz looked at Tommy and Dumbledore.

"Do your legends talk about people back from the dead like Frankenstein's monster?" she said.

Dumbledore raised his wand. A stream of golden fire uncurled from the tip and spread around their group.

"They do. This spell will protect us from them, but you should warn the other group not to kill anyone. They'll only come back as Inferi."

Liz took out the two-way mirror.

"Sugar-Orange-Vic? Ace-Toc-Monkey to Sugar-Orange-Vic?"

"Sugar-Orange-Vic to Ace-Toc-Monkey," he heard Lyuba say.

"Don't shoot anyone, no kills. They come back from the dead."

Lyuba scoffed and said something in Russian before acknowledging. Liz closed the mirror and looked at the fire Dumbledore had conjured. Beyond the golden flames, Tommy watched eight shadowy figures. The Inferi seemed reluctant to cross the flames.

"What will destroy them?" Tommy asked Dumbledore, raising his wand.

"Fire," Dumbledore said. Even as he spoke, one Nazi reached through the flames and caught fire. He howled, the noise neither human nor animal, and disintegrated like brittle paper.

Dumbledore waved his wand, so that the flames whirled faster, engulfing the other seven Inferi. Their death shrieks rent the air, cutting away any courage Tommy might have mustered. Over the mirror, Lyuba said,

"Sugar-Orange-Vic to Ace-Toc-Monkey. What was that noise?"

"Be certain you don't kill any Nazis," Liz repeated, her voice shaking but her posture steady.

Beyond the whirling flames, a massive serpentine shadow moved into view.

"Lovely heat. Wondrous magic such as our master worked!"

"Gwendolyn!" Tommy called. If the spell could kill lowly Inferi, what would it do to her?

"Tom, what have you done?" Dumbledore said, grabbing Tommy by the arm.

"It's Gwendolyn, the basilisk! She's here to help us! She'll protect us!"

"You fool. Who will protect them?" Dumbledore said, gesturing at the others. Tommy wrenched his arm free.

"She's not dangerous!"

"Tommy! We are come, Tommy," Gwendolyn said. She reared up, they saw her silhouetted by the flames, Liz and the British women gasping.

"What the hell is that?" Stokes said, gun trained on the outline of Gwendolyn's huge head.

"No! Don't shoot her! She's a basilisk and she's here to protect us from Grindelwald!" Tommy put himself between the flames and the gun.

"What's a basilisk, a giant snake?" Liz said, raising her hand in a 'hold' gesture.

"Yes."

Liz made a fist, so Stokes and Chambers lowered their guns.

"This one is magical enough to control snakes. Giant snakes. She's going to cover us while we get into the fortress. Tell her, Tommy," Liz said.

Tommy realised this was as close to an endorsement as he'd ever get for Gwendolyn. He turned around to face Gwendolyn's silhouette.

"Gwendolyn? We're going to get into this fortress here. You must stop anyone from coming in, but try not to kill them."

"We will not kill anyone worthy," Gwendolyn said.

"Let's go," Liz said. Stokes and Chambers followed her up the tracks first. Olga and Svetlana gave Tommy impressed smiles before they hefted their rifles and followed. Dumbledore flicked his wand and the flames disappeared.

Gwendolyn slithered down the tracks, away from them. Tommy waved at her before turning away and following.

"You must not put your comrades in such danger, Tommy. The basilisk's gaze is deadly and doesn't discriminate," Dumbledore said.

Tommy scowled but ignored Dumbledore otherwise.

"She's not stupid. She didn't hurt Alfie when he met her."

Dumbledore snorted in disbelief but let it pass. They caught up to the soldiers, Liz standing in front. There was a gate across the tracks, closed and barred. The stink of burning hair was thick enough to sting Tommy's eyes, and a roasting smell of meat.

"Tommy? What other magic protects this?" Liz said. Tommy came to her side, but so did Dumbledore.

"Specialis revelio," Dumbledore said, in reply. Tommy and Liz shared a dark look, remembering the last time they'd heard that. "There is a curse against any living creature who enters."

"What does the curse do?" Tommy said.

"I believe," Dumbledore said, staring at the gates and holding his wand up like a conductor's baton, "that if one has magical blood, he would not be able to exit again."

"So, it's an anti-wizard spell?" Liz asked. Tommy shook his head, knowing this would be much worse.

"Not just wizards. Anyone with magic. Squibs too, I'll bet, and…and half-giants or half-goblins?"

"It is a very good supposition. Grindelwald believed only those of the purest blood were worthy of the magic in it," Dumbledore said.

"Lovely. Can you remove it?" Liz said again at Tommy. Again, Dumbledore answered.

"I question the wisdom of your asking this of a fifteen year old," he said. Liz and Tommy glared at him.

"Boys that young fought in the Great War," Liz said. From behind her, Stokes said,

"Olga's eighteen, is that much better?"

"I'll remove the curse. If I need your help, I'll ask," Tommy said.

He knew curses this powerful fed on a continuous supply of evil. He guessed that a force for good would break the curse, but there'd be a cost. There aways was. He took a few steps closer to the gates. That was when he noticed the sign above: "For The Greater Good", painted in gold.

"Liar," Tommy whispered.

He pointed his wand at the sign and reached out through the magic. If they could smell the burning and taste it, then he could wring it from the gates. He closed his eyes and imagined his wand with teeth like a key, and felt for tumblers falling into place. He needed to put something human, something good into the weak spot he'd created. He thought of playing the piano with mum. Each note sweet and clear, each note aching and true. He knew all the scales, he knew she'd finish the phrases and make the harmonies.

"Mum."

The beauty of the music still sat inside him. He could still remember his mother's face. But the feelings were gone, and the curse with it.

"That was a terrible price to pay, Tom," Dumbledore said, quietly.

"I don't care," Tommy lied. "The curse is broken, isn't it?"

Liz gestured for Stokes and Chambers to move forward. They broke the gates open, with Olga's help, while Svetlana pointed her rifle into the compound. Liz's hand was warm when she held Tommy's, and the warmth was the only thing saving him.

"Before we go in, tell me how many there are," Liz said at last. Tommy raised his wand before Dumbledore could.

"Hominum revelio."

Four and four and four and four again, in the low outbuildings. There were things in the tower moving, but they weren't human, even if they were alive.

"There's sixteen more," he said. Dumbledore looked at the two ensorcelled Nazis.

"Are there sixteen more inside the compound?" he said.

The unhurt Nazi spoke.

"There are only twenty-four of us. Magic does the rest."

"Are there still people there, prisoners?" Liz said. The Nazis both shook their heads.

"No. They die like pigs," the unhurt one said.

Stokes and Chambers looked at Liz. Liz nodded at them. Chambers punched the man in the mouth. He spat a tooth out and cursed at her, before Dumbledore waved his wand. The Nazi went glassy-eyed again, even though his mouth bled.

"In the future, kindly don't do that to our prisoners," Dumbledore said.

"Negative. That was a direct order to Chambers from her CO. Good job, 'gel'," Liz said.

"Liz," Tommy whispered, while the others propped the gates open. She kept hold of his hand, but he could feel the nervous tick of her pulse. "Liz, I'm sure there's something else. I'm sure Alec is—"

"—Alright. Let's go, and remember, we're not to kill those Nazis until we have to," Liz said.

Stokes and Chambers covered while Olga and Svetlana went in first, rifles raised. Dumbledore followed, wand raised, flanked by the two captives. Liz led with her gun, Tommy with his wand.


	19. Grindelwald 1942

**Trigger Warning: Nazis, hints about torture and industrialized slaughter, Lovecraftian horrors and Captain Montgomery doing necromancy. Uh, spoilers?**

* * *

><p>Tommy was glad to feel nothing when he entered the compound last. The rail sidings and decoupled cattle cars led up beside a barren platform. The nearest outbuildings were long and low, like warehouses.<p>

Liz waited while Chambers and Stokes checked the cattle cars. They covered their mouths and noses with cloths.

"They stink. There's definite signs he moved people," Chambers said.

"We've got sixteen more of the bastards to deal with," Liz said. "They'd be in the outbuildings."

The stink of burning meat in the yard made them all reluctant to approach the buildings. Even Dumbledore looked nauseated.

"I am afraid we'll have to destroy them. Even I cannot enchant this many," he said.

"Right. Tommy, hide us," Liz said.

Tommy was glad to think of something else. He Disillusioned the snipers first, giving them time to take their positions. Then, Stokes and Chambers. Liz and Dumbledore remained unprotected, as did the two captives.

"Don't you worry on us," Liz said. Tommy kept his wand drawn after he'd Disillusioned himself.

Dumbledore ordered the captives to march Liz and himself to the doors of the outbuildings. In the silence, with no one around to distract him from it, Tommy heard the constant humming of engines or giant machinery. He didn't have time to wonder what could make that horrible noise, when he heard more men shouting.

"Hey! Why've you left your posts?" a man said. Tommy looked around the side of the nearest cattle car. Dumbledore and Liz were standing, hands raised in surrender, in front of the warehouse. Two men menaced them with guns. A third, an officer by his markings, was bellowing in the face of the Nazi Chambers had punched.

Tommy counted off in his head. Pop! Pop! Pop!

Three direct hits, the blood spraying Liz and Dumbledore as one by one the men fell. Tommy darted forwards, prepared to cast anything he could against the Inferi. Together, he and Dumbledore said: "Incendio!" The Inferi screamed without words as the fire engulfed them. They didn't burn like meat, but like paper and bitter plants. The fire went out far too quickly.

"Let's hope that draws the rest. I don't fancy going into this facility," Liz said. She gestured at the doors, which stood open.

"Indeed. We should wait for the second group," Dumbledore said.

Tommy wanted to take Liz's hand again, but she'd folded her arms now and looked away into the distance. He knew she wouldn't see anything except Alec. There had to be some way of knowing Alec was alive. Tommy wondered if Alec would come back as a ghost. And then he realised he'd have someone who'd know. It was a dangerously long shot, but he closed his eyes and reached out into the magic.

"Captain Montgomery? Alec is here. I told you I'd find him. Captain Robert Montgomery?"

Shouting broke through Tommy's self-imposed trance. Flamel and Lyuba marched into the courtyard, Flamel herding eight more Inferi before him with a fiery lasso.

"What shall we do about these?" Flamel said, to Dumbledore rather than Liz.

Dumbledore looked at Liz, waiting for her orders. Liz and Lyuba shared a look, before Liz said,

"Dispose of them. How did you get in, Flamel? Were there more guards?"

Flamel and Lyuba both laughed.

"There are, but they won't be a bother any more. They've been petrified," Flamel said.

Tommy's jaw dropped.

"What do you mean? Did you find them that way?" he asked, looking from Lyuba to Flamel.

"I imagine your large friend had something to do with this?" Flamel said.

Tommy, relieved that Gwendolyn hadn't harmed anyone on their side, sagged as he spoke.

"She did. I told her not to harm you. I'm glad she listened."

"Right. See, I had every faith in Tommy," Liz said, to Dumbledore. Alfie and the rest of the team reappeared then. Alfie hugged Tommy tight and Tommy wouldn't let him go. Alfie whimpered a little as he cuddled close.

"Alright. According to our prisoners, there will be no survivors. We'll need to verify that," Liz said.

"We'll stay here and guard the prisoners," Lyuba said. Olga and Svetlana joined her, as did Flamel.

"I will remain out here, but if you're going to check I'd strongly advise you to bring Albus and the boys with you. I am more than enough of a wizard for Inferi. You will need great magic with you," Flamel said.

Alfie shook his head as he clung, but Tommy stroked his soft hair and said, "I'm not leaving Liz."

"Course not," Liz said.

The rest of the Inferi were burned without ceremony, and the remaining two Nazis handcuffed to a cattle car. Lyuba directed the Soviet women to take up posts around the compound, while Flamel cast protective wards on them.

"Incidentally, Albus, magnificent curse-breaking. I wasn't certain how to proceed," Flamel said. Dumbledore bowed his head with pretend humility, before gesturing at Tommy.

"Actually, it was Tom who did the honours," he said.

Tommy had no time for false modesty.

"I did. I gave up my memories of mum. All the hope in them. It's all gone," he said. Would this make Henwen weaker? He'd have to summon her to find that out.

Alfie moaned against him at the words, and Liz stifled a small gasp. Tommy had no time for their sympathy either. He raised his wand and proceeded to the warehouse door, bringing Alfie with him. It opened to a second set of doors. On the wall beside these were signs in German, but the Translation Charm read: Holding, Line, Disposal. Behind him, Liz swore and Dumbledore gagged. Alfie looked up, read the signs and then moaned louder.

"I'm going to be ill," he said, one arm wrapped so tight around Tommy it was hard to walk.

"The prisoners will be in 'Holding'," Liz said. They followed the sign through the double doors.

The smell hit them first. Alfie whimpered again, "I'm going to ralph," and vomited on the floor. Tommy Vanished the puddle once Alfie'd gotten control of himself. Liz handed him a handkerchief, monogramed "A.M." while Dumbledore tutted and gestured at the half-filled pens leading into the stinking distance.

"After all, they're still human," he said.

The room they'd entered was filled with pens, the kind used to shepherd animals into the abattoir. There were people in them, but they all had the same glassy-eyed look as the Nazi captives.

"They've been Imperioed?" Tommy said, looking at the nearest person.

"He needed them to be tractable," Dumbledore replied.

The woman nearest Tommy was naked, but she seemed not to mind the stench or the heat of so many filthy bodies pressed too close. She was jaundiced, save her lips and finger tips, which were black. When she shuffled forward, they saw needle marks on her arms and thighs. Liz, Stokes and Chambers were moving to unlock pens, but even as they were freed the people didn't run.

"Can't you free them? From whatever's got them?" Liz said, looking ready to punch Dumbledore in frustration.

"I think Grindelwald will be alerted should I attempt it," Dumbledore said. He moved down the long corridor and Tommy and Liz followed.

There was a channel along the centre of the room, for the filth from the pens, which Tommy and Liz skirted and Dumbledore ignored so completely it might have been beneath his notice. They came to a second set of double doors. The label beside these read "Line".

"Don't go in there," Liz said, her voice sharp in the eerie silence. Tommy jumped but Dumbledore looked politely incredulous.

"We could save them," he said. Liz shook her head, wrapped her arms around herself and then continued shaking.

"You've never been to a slaughterhouse? They're as good as dead, Dumbledore. Let's save the living first, before we worry about the rest."

Tommy started shaking too, but he pushed the doors open before he had time to think.

Tommy'd stopped eating lamb for Easter after visiting the butcher's with mum. The lambs hung from hooks in the ceiling, skinless, bloodless, headless. Tommy'd known, even then, they'd been the spring lambs Uncle Stig and Liz sometimes nursed, with soft pink noses and liquid black eyes.

This was the spring lambs all over again. The bodies were white. They were naked. But he knew they'd been human.

Metal tubes ran from each, funneling their blood out from their necks and thighs. They hung by their ankles as a conveyor moved them along the line, blinking out their last, docile as sheep. Dying like pigs.

The person nearest Tommy took a step onto the conveyor belt and lay down, and when he turned his face to Tommy, Tommy recognised him.

"Liz! Liz! Liz!"

Tommy didn't wait, he threw himself onto the conveyor belt and grabbed Alec by the shoulders. Liz appeared at his side and without saying a word she heaved up Alec's feet. Alec didn't protest. Alec didn't make any noise. He didn't even look like Alec, save for the dimple that resembled a crater in his wasted face.

"Let him go," Dumbledore said, having also come through the doors. He waved his wand and Alec was lifted gently from Tommy and Liz's arms. Dumbledore removed his cloak and wrapped Alec in it. Alec didn't protest. Alec said nothing. His lips were black against his jaundiced, papery skin. His eyes were the same dull, piss yellow. Liz choked as she sat down beside Alec, and Tommy beside her.

"What did he do to him?" Liz said, hoarse.

In reply, Dumbledore lifted up Alec's arm and showed the needle marks criss-crossing Alec's skin.

"Grindelwald wanted magical blood," he said.

Tommy tasted bile and had to look away from the holes in Alec's skin. The eyes of the people around him blinked, glassy as marbles, dull as the light left them. Tommy stood up and walked back into the room with the pens. He knelt and vomited hard.

Tommy stood up again as Dumbledore walked through the double doors, Alec carried easily in his arms and Liz behind, one hand over her mouth, the other holding Alec's arm.

"Is he still alive?" Chambers said. She'd been trying in vain to guide some of the people around her out of a pen.

"He is, his body is alive. I will need time to learn what curse Grindelwald has cast on him," Dumbledore said.

Alfie came over to Tommy with the soiled handkerchief. He tapped Tommy's mouth weakly, smiling without meaning it.

"If you want to turn back," Tommy said. Alfie shook his head, his touch warm and real.

"You want me here. You need me here. So I'm here, you dirty dog," Alfie said. He sounded so lovely Tommy ached, because nothing lovely could survive this place. As he looked back around at Dumbledore and Alec, he spotted the ghost. No one else had yet, but Dumbledore and Alfie should have.

"My son," Captain Montgomery said. His voice caused Dumbledore to look up with a start. Dumbledore, for the first time in this operation, didn't look disgusted or annoyed. He was afraid.

"Let go my son," Captain Montgomery said. The belt was still around his neck, and this time he looked like a man who'd died by it. Dumbledore stepped away from Alec as the ghost knelt to take his place. "Alec…my boy. They die like pigs!"

Liz, Stokes and Chambers jumped. Tommy wondered if they could see the ghost, and then prayed they couldn't.

"Captain Montgomery?" he said, approaching the ghost even as his insides writhed in fear.

"They die like pigs!" Captain Montgomery said again. His eyes bulged, veins red and throbbing in them, his tongue swelled up and turned blue. They smelled waste and sweat and a burst of Bay Rum cologne, and the ghost screamed. His face twisted round with the scream, "Like pigs!"

The ghost vanished and Alec gasped and shuddered.

"Like pigs…" he whispered. Liz knelt beside Tommy and together they took his limp hand. "Like pigs…" Alec whispered again. He licked his cracked lips with a blackened tongue and then tried to laugh. "Ah me, the wee cuckoo's egg and the Irish bastard's bastard."

Liz flinched and flung Alec's hand down.

"Get out of him," she said. Tommy put one hand on her, the other on his wand. Alec laughed without sounding like Alec, and then moaned in pain.

"He's not here. He's in the tower," Alec said.

Tommy looked back over his shoulder at Dumbledore, at Stokes and Chambers and the shuffling mass of people.

"Are they all there?" Tommy asked, but keeping his gaze on Dumbledore. Dumbledore had his wand out and studied Alec's body with an expression of mingled distaste and something very strange. Nostalgia. He knew the shape of this evil.

"Aye, all souls go there," Captain Montgomery said. He shuddered and traced the needle marks on his son's arm with one of those blackened fingers.

"Once we've retrieved your son's soul, you will need to vacate that body," Dumbledore said. He pointed his wand at Alec's chest and flicked it once. Alec's body twitched and then Captain Montgomery laughed and spat a bloody wad at Dumbledore's feet.

"Felt worse, believe me," Captain Montgomery said.

Liz's face was screwed up, her eyes wet, but she offered her hand as Captain Montgomery sat up. He looked at the hand, then up at Liz. Liz grimaced at him.

"I don't care what you call me. I'm doing this for Alec," she said, her gaze hard, her expression just as ugly as Captain Montgomery's had been. He continued to gaze at her, until very slowly he put his other hand on Alec's chest, over his son's heart.

"Alright," he said. He took Liz's hand and though she flinched she helped him to his feet. Tommy took a step away from him. He could still smell Bay Rum and wondered why anybody liked that smell. Alfie's soft hand slipped into his. Tommy looked away, just as Chambers said,

"We can't take all these hostages out with us. We need a safe place we can leave them. Until they get their souls back."

Tommy gestured at the double doors leading to the Line. He slashed across the air and the doors sealed shut with a hollow metal clang. Dumbledore nodded and then gestured for the team to leave.

"We'll have someone guard the building," Dumbledore said. Liz looked at Tommy and gestured at his wand.

"Tommy, get the basilisk to guard them. No one will get past her."

"Not even you," Tommy said. He looked round at Chambers and Stokes. "She can petrify anyone who looks at her. That's too dangerous."

"I'll stay," Stokes said. When Liz looked at her, she saluted. "I'm even used to the smell. I'll find clothes for these people."

"Don't go into the Line, Harriet," Liz said. Stokes nodded and they saluted each other. Chambers did so as well, and when Tommy and the others had exited the building, she said,

"Liz, I'm staying with her. I'll keep guard, me and Lyuba and Olga."

Lyuba and Flamel hurried over as they exited, and Liz held up her hand when they both looked ready to question her about Alec's appearance.

"Lyuba, you and your team will guard this building, clear it of Nazis and make sure nothing unexpected comes up on it. Flamel, you'll stay and take care of the dead. There are people here, hostages," Liz said, when Flamel started to ask questions. Dumbledore put in,

"Their souls are in the tower. With him."

Flamel said no more. Alfie, pressed to Tommy's side, shivered.

"There is a way to get the souls back, isn't there?" Tommy said, while Alfie shivered, his warmth draining away. Liz looked at Captain Montgomery, as did Dumbledore.

"There is, so long as they haven't crossed over. Isn't that correct?" Dumbledore asked this last of Captain Montgomery, who nodded slowly.

"Right, you have your instructions," Liz said, gesturing to her group. Once they'd dispersed and only Flamel remained of them, Liz said, "Flamel, if we don't come back, you take that lot in there and you get them out."

"Affirmative," Flamel said. He saluted as they walked away.

Tommy stayed away from Captain Montgomery, from Alec's body. He, strangely enough, stayed near Liz, Dumbledore's cloak pulled into a makeshift toga around him. At last, Tommy said,

"Do you want clothes? Are you cold?"

Captain Montgomery shuddered but shook his head.

"I feel alive, and that is something, my wee cuckoo."

"Boots at least," Alfie said. He'd finally stopped shaking.

Captain Montgomery looked at them, Tommy with one arm around Alfie and the other on his wand.

"Young love is always the sweetest," Captain Montgomery said.

When Tommy glanced at Alfie, he'd turned pink. He flicked his wand at Captain Montgomery's bare feet and a pair of boots appeared. Liz looked from the boots, to Tommy and Alfie, and managed to smile. Tommy smiled back at her, but she'd already turned away.

The tower seemed to recede as they approached. Tommy wondered if this was some magical defense and muttered, "Specialis revelio."

Nothing came to him but that oily, writhing sound. Knowing what it was, he tried to reach out into the magic, but nausea squirmed inside him. He set his teeth and pointed his wand, saying, "Expecto patronum."

Henwen looked diminished, glimmering and nearly translucent in the light. Dumbledore nodded when he saw her.

"A good idea at this time. Alphard, you and I will also summon our patroni," he said. Without having to speak the incantation, Dumbledore summoned his patronus: a phoenix the size of a swan, a blinding diamond white. Alfie hesitated before murmuring the spell. His little fox also shone like a full moon, but he seemed to find it embarrassing when compared to the phoenix. Tommy kissed Alfie's cheek.

"It's brilliant," he murmured. Alfie giggled and the fox gave a yip of pleasure.

Their patroni flickered ahead as they approached the tower. It was still much like trying to approach the vanishing point in an optical illusion, but by keeping his focus on Henwen, Tommy managed to put one foot in front of the other.

The base of the tower came into view at long last. It looked built from solid obsidian. There were no doors, no visible brickwork and nothing to suggest human hands had constructed it. When Tommy looked over at Liz, he found that Captain Montgomery had taken her hand and was guiding her forward. He seemed to be humming something to her, for she'd stopped grimacing.

"There's no way in," Tommy said, as Dumbledore stopped beside him.

"Not an easy way, no," Dumbledore said. Tommy sighed and pointed his wand into the thickening air.

"It's another spell that needs breaking, isn't it? I'll do it," Tommy said. Alfie squeezed his hand with a gasp.

"Don't you dare, you absolute dog! You'll have to give something else up!" he said.

Tommy did his best to glare at Alfie, but nothing shifted Alfie's stubborn pout.

"Alfie, there's a price, there's always a price," he said. Liz looked over at him, scowling.

"No one's asking you to pay it all alone, Tommyknocker," she said. Dumbledore added,

"Indeed not."

"I'll do it," Alfie said. Tommy and Liz both protested, but Captain Montgomery spoke suddenly.

"I'll do it. Don't I have magic in me? Isn't that why the beast wanted my son?" he said, in a voice so like Alec's that Liz winced and Tommy squirmed.

"Without a wand—" Dumbledore began, but Captain Montgomery laughed.

"-I know just what I'll give it. I died once trying to rid myself of this. He can have it!"

Tommy lowered his wand and forced himself to smile.

"Fine. Do what you like."

Captain Montgomery sang. Tommy was the only other person who could know why, but Dumbledore listened politely and Liz pressed her eyes closed, tears leaking from the corners.

_Oh, leeze me on your curly pow_

_Dainty Davies, Bonnie Davies_

_Leeze me on your curly pow_

_My ain dear Dainty Davies._

_It was doon amang my Daddy's pease_

_And underneath the cherry trees_

_Oh, there he kissed me as he pleased_

_For he was my ain dear Davies._

Captain Montgomery had a beautiful voice, baritone, warm and rich, so that he might have still been alive if they didn't know better. Alfie sighed when the last note faded.

"Why would you give that up?" he said. Tommy shivered as the cold of the tower returned.

"It wouldn't be a hard price to pay, otherwise," Tommy said. Captain Montgomery said nothing, but the set of his shoulders suggested a burden lightened. Captain Montgomery didn't object when Liz took his hand again. She drew her gun and pointed it at the base of the tower.

"The door is open now," she said. The door appeared without them noticing, a rectangle leading into the oily darkness.

"Miss McGillicuddy," Dumbledore said, causing Liz and Captain Montgomery to halt and draw together. "This is your very last opportunity to flee. Grindelwald is a powerful dark wizard, and it will be magic that defeats him."

"I am here to find Alec," Liz said, her shoulders set and voice steel, "I'm not leaving without him. Dead or alive."

"Alive, if I can help it," Captain Montgomery added.

Dumbledore nodded. "I thought you both might say that."

He was the first towards the door, and directed his phoenix patronus inside. Though nothing happened, Dumbledore groaned and grabbed his heart.

"What is it?" Tommy said, letting go of Alfie and edging closer. Henwen flickered.

"He knows we are coming," Dumbledore said. Tommy cast a Protego on Liz and Captain Montgomery while Alfie did for himself, as did Dumbledore.

Though their spells glittered and the fox, the phoenix and the pig remained, no one moved forward. Tommy stared up at the tower. From here it was like looking up at the Slytherin tree, it went on forever into a sky turning sulfur yellow.

The words spoken next did not come from a human mouth.

_You are come_.

"I'm here to kill you," Tommy said, unsure if he'd spoken aloud, unsure if it mattered.

_The Golden King did not bid you enter_.

"You're not my king," Tommy said. Alfie, beside him, the only human thing he knew, laughed.

They crossed the threshold together, hand in hand. All light stopped at the door, and a new light shone out from the inside of the tower, a yellow light that gave no warmth or illumination.

_You in the court of the Golden King will feel the full extent of his wrath!_

Tommy waved his wand, directing Henwen to his side. Her glow had faded to a silvery mist through which only her outline showed. Alfie moaned,

"You gave up too much, Tommy."

"She's still here," he said. The words left his mouth, but they didn't make a dent in the thickening air. Tommy looked away from the sickening yellow light, focusing on Alfie. Pretty, dimpled Alfie, here by Tommy's side even when terrified beyond all human measure. Alfie looked as wasted as Alec's body in this sulfurous light.

_Just boys…_

The light winked in the distance, turning Alfie's skin from sulfur yellow to dying leaves.

"Expecto…" Alfie whispered.

Too late.

Tommy squeezed Alfie's hand, but Alfie was gone. In his place, a little golden fox.

"Alf?" Tommy tried. From out of the yellow light, golden hounds bayed. They charged and oozed through the darkness, their eyes swimming in golden faces, their teeth yellow and dripping. The fox screamed and darted into the black. "Alfie! No!"

Tommy chased after the little fox, but the darkness closed around them like hands. He heard yips and squeals of pain, smelled coppery blood and the stinking breath of dogs.

"Alf! Protego!" He pointed his wand into the squealing, whimpering, snarling darkness. "Protego!"

The fox screamed again.

"Stupefy!" Tommy pointed and cast. A hound snarled and snapped. "Reparifarge!"

A white hand reached out of the darkness and closed around Tommy's wrist.

"Tommy," Alfie said, falling against him. Tommy cast a shield around them both. Henwen vanished. The golden hounds circled, snarling and snapping.

Something warm and wet soaked into Tommy's hand, when it came away he found blood. Alfie's side had a chunk ripped out. His eyes glittered in the yellow light, their own sparkle fading. Tommy gasped. "No, no. Alf…no!"

A silvery light circled them, driving the hounds back. Dumbledore's phoenix appeared and landed at Alfie's side. Dumbledore himself appeared next in a rush of silver and red. He knelt beside Tommy and waved his wand over Alfie's wounds.

"You're both just boys," Dumbledore said.

"You're a fool," Tommy said. Tears stung his eyes but he blinked them back. Alfie moaned and mumbled and reached for Tommy's face.

_Albus_.

The voice came out of the sulfurous light. Dumbledore didn't rebuke Tommy. Something had taken all the voice from him.

_You see, Albus. How weak love is_.

"Shut up!" Tommy stood up, Alfie just clinging to his fingers. He pointed into writhing light and tried to remember papa's face. The smell of cigarillos, purple orchids, papa's linen shirts and his soft voice.

But there was always a price to pay.

Tommy's wand tip flared silver as he tried to pour all his hope out. The writhing light wrapped around them, laughing. Laughing.

_The Golden King thanks you._

The sweet cigarillo smell faded, the purple orchids turned yellow and died and his papa's shirts rotted to tatters. Tommy couldn't remember his papa's voice, for the yellow light cut right into his heart. Henwen would never return. Tommy writhed and squirmed, his wand exploded out of his hand, which turned into a claw, which shrank as Tommy did.

The writhing light wrapped around him, with it an explosive hissing. The writhing tentacles of light resolved into a tangle of serpents and Tommy cowered before them. He'd been transfigured into a rat.

Tommy turned tail and ran through stinking, oily darkness. His whiskers hummed as the air around him moved. The darkness moved with him, the voices above and around incoherent, screaming, howling. Tommy ran until he bumped into a vast, scaly, moving something.

"No! No! No!"

"Tommy! We are come!" Gwendolyn said, her voice as big as the sky, as deep as the ocean. Climbing her was like climbing the face of a mountain.

_What is this?_

Grindelwald's voice filled the air. Gwendolyn hissed again. Grindelwald's voice twisted in pain. Tommy returned to his original form, climbing higher on Gwendolyn's back.

_You think an animal will kill the Golden King?_

He had the Cloak and Wand and Stone. The light above spiraled out of a dark maw, flecks of yellow teeth, crackling lighting. Grindelwald's curse hit Gwendolyn's rearing belly and she arced, hissing again. Tommy wrapped his arms and legs around her as she plunged.

"He has the Cloak!" Tommy yelled this last into the place below, where living people were. He reached out and found a warm, soft hand. Alfie pulled himself onto Gwendolyn's back, his wand readied.

"We're getting that bloody Cloak off him," Alfie said. Tommy nodded. Even wandless, he'd do something.

Gwendolyn plunged again into the black, yellow lightning crackling off her scales.

"A great and terrible magic, Tommy," she said. She twisted through the air, yellow tentacles grasping, yellow maws opening to howl as she passed. Alfie cast curses into the yellow light, but they had almost no effect. Whenever one yellowing mouth exploded, another took its place.

"He's in here somewhere, Alf. Can you cast that spell to find him?" Tommy said. The words buzzed in the air, little voices and big ones stealing the echoes. Alfie looked at Tommy for maybe millennia.

"It's for you. Specialis revelio!"

Alfie's wand pointed into the spiraling yellow light, right into the heart of it. Tommy kissed Alfie's sweet mouth. He had no patronus, so this would have to do. Then, Tommy turned to the light.

"Gwendolyn! Attack!" he said, pointing. She hissed, and knives of sound cut through the darkness. She moved with the yellow lightning as Tommy ran up her length, onto her head, and he reached out into the yellow sign.

His hand found smooth, silken cloth. Grabbing, Tommy wrenched hard, pulling the Cloak free. For a second that lasted through dying suns and spirals of yellow and black and purple and green, Tommy looked right into Grindelwald's blue eyes.

So did Gwendolyn.

"No," Grindelwald's human mouth moved, but the sound already died in him. "No!" His voice alone moved into the air. The rest of him writhed and squirmed as he flailed in Gwendolyn's gaze. He reached out, scrabbling for the Cloak, for Tommy's face, for anything human. Then he stopped moving and tatters of yellow light closed around him.

Beneath Tommy's feet, Gwendolyn shifted and fell, and he slipped off her head into the darkness below. He had the Cloak, and something cold and metal fell out into his hand. He tried to twist around as the tatters of yellow and black faded and the floor raced up to meet him.

Tommy said something. Then he said nothing.


	20. 1945 FIN

Tommy heard the voices from far away and high above. The light behind his eyelids glowed warm and soft. He smelled medicine and flowers.

"Papa?" he whispered.

"Tommy…" Alfie's voice said instead. Something cool and damp pressed to his forehead. He opened his eyes, wanting to take all of Alfie in. He was not disappointed. Pretty Alfie, curly hair falling over soft eyes. His dimples were hidden now.

"Alf," Tommy said.

"Oh…Tom!" Alfie said. He started crying and turned to someone just beyond Tommy's line of sight. Flamel joined Alfie at Tommy's bedside.

"You need to rest, Tom. You've been right to the mouth of Hell and back," Flamel said.

"Did we stop him?" Tommy said instead. Flamel was too slow to smile. He and Alfie looked at each other, far away and high above. Anger pushed Tommy up, his head like a bubble on a spindly neck. "Did we?"

Alfie put his soft hand on Tommy's chest and pushed him back into bed.

"Sit down, you idiot. You need to rest first."

Tommy sat back in bed and allowed Alfie to fluff his pillows and fret with the blankets. Tommy looked around as Alfie worked. He was in a hospital of some kind, probably a military installation. There were a hundred beds, all occupied with jaundiced, sleeping people.

"We rescued them?" Tommy said. He picked out Alec. Liz had left flowers at his bedside, but she wasn't there and Alec slept.

"They are sleeping. They fell asleep when Grindelwald was killed and haven't woken. They breathe, their hearts beat, they are alive. But they won't wake," Flamel said.

It was like falling through the spiraling yellow light again. Tommy's stomach churned but he had nothing to vomit and kept it in.

"Can't you wake them up?" he said, choking a little.

"I had a little of the Elixir of Life, and I gave a drop to everyone, you as well. They were saved from whatever fate Grindelwald had planned, but there was not enough to heal them. It will take a year for me to make more…and who knows what may happen by then," Flamel said. Tommy looked away from Alec and found Alfie's hand again.

"But I'm awake," he said. Alfie shivered but before Flamel could continue, Alfie said,

"Look at your hands, Tommy."

He held Tommy's hand up so Tommy couldn't miss the blackened fingertips and yellow tinge. Something squirmed in the back of Tommy's mind, but Flamel spoke before Tommy could voice anything.

"The fight has left you very ill, Tom, very sick. The Elixir saved you, but it has not healed you any more than it has the others. This taint goes deep."

Tommy sank into his pillows. His body heavy with taint, his mind battered with memory and yellow lightning.

"So there's nothing you can do?" he said. Alfie cooed and whimpered and curled up beside Tommy on the tiny hospital bed. Flamel handed Tommy a little bundle of wrapped cloth. He took out a larger bundle from under the bed and revealed the _Pnakotica_.

"First, you should have something of your inheritance, Tom." He nodded at the little bundle. When Tommy picked the knot open, a heavy gold ring and a large golden locket both fell out into his palm. They already felt warm in his hand, even though nothing could have warmed them.

"This is Slytherin's locket, Cadmus Peverell's ring," he said. Flamel gently took the ring and showed Tommy the mark etched into the glossy black stone. The mark of the Deathly Hallows, Wand, Cloak and Stone.

"The Stone, Tom. This is the Stone. It's now yours," Flamel said. Even though his words meant something, somehow they meant little to Tommy. He looked over the locket next.

Heavy and gold, but made sturdy and well. It had been worked to resemble a lock, the hinges underneath and hidden, the clasp like a tiny serpent's head. There were minute words in Slytherin's mother tongue. Tommy didn't have a wand to cast the translation charm with.

"What's in it?" Tommy said. Flamel and Alfie both smiled.

"You're the one to open it, you dog," Alfie said, his voice soft as his hands.

Tommy rubbed the tiny snake's head.

"Open sesame," he said, in Parseltongue. The locket popped open and a ruby red stone fell out. Flamel gasped.

"A Philosopher's Stone!"

Tommy let the stone roll round in his palm before he passed it to Flamel.

"I can't do anything with this. The Elixir doesn't work," he said. Alfie whimpered again as Flamel returned the stone to the locket.

"You idiot! We could make a fortune with that!"

"But if I'm ill, I'd never live to spend it," Tommy said. Flamel shrugged, his mouth downturned. Alfie pouted in silence.

"Why did you bring the scroll?" Tommy said. Flamel sighed as he opened it. The words writhed on the parchment, and with it the writhing in the back of Tommy's mind. He had to close his eyes to make it stop.

"There is here records of ancient rituals. Many predate man's study of magic. Many predate the earth itself. I have located those rituals that concern us, for the rest of this knowledge is dangerous. There were two rituals the Ancients used, one to instill magic in the lesser race of mankind. One to remove it. It is this latter ritual which Grindelwald used, to his demise. The first one, Tom, is beyond us. What I understand, I can only make sense of very little. This is magic beyond human ken," Flamel said.

"So you can't remove the taint?" Tommy said, his eyes still closed. The yellow shapes writhed beyond his understanding, but they all laughed.

"I believe, Tom, that there is only one way. The ritual of magic must be done with a pure source. Our own human magic is too weak, too…passionate, to be appropriate. We need magic that has never been tainted by the human," Flamel said.

Alfie humphed and fussed so that Tommy opened his eyes.

"What an insult. My magic is ancient, my family is ancient, and we're far purer than the rest," Alfie said. Flamel tapped his nose with a patient look.

"The people around here know a different kind of magic, without wands or incantations. Just as ancient, in its own way, Alphard."

"What good is magic, really? All the magic I know is human, or something like it. Elf magic. Goblin magic," Tommy said. Alfie squealed and squirmed away from him.

"Tom! Without magic you'd be little better than a squib!"

"So? My parents weren't magic. My aunt and uncle aren't, and Liz, and even Alec's magic is gone."

Flamel sighed, preventing Alfie from retorting.

"Tom, with no cure, this taint will consume you," he said.

The writhing wanted to break free, it squirmed on Tommy's tongue, it curled little yellow fingers around his eyes. He held Alfie's hand for what was left of the human.

"I understand. But…are there ways to find pure magic?" he said. Flamel sighed again.

"I will look into it. It's not only your life at stake, Tom. God knows what will happen if I can't cure these people. For now, rest. The Elixir bought you that much time," he said, patting Tommy's hand.

After he left, Tommy let Alfie spoon against him. The room swam with yellow light, but if he closed his eyes, the light died. He fell through yellow spirals, hitting the floor hard enough to break bones…

* * *

><p>Tommy woke up again when someone called him. Alfie was still pressed so hard to his side it was as though he wanted to become Tommy's shadow.<p>

"Grandmother?" Tommy said. It was like looking down a long yellow tunnel, at the far end Grandmother rushing toward him. When she touched his face the yellow tinge disappeared.

"Tom! You take after your parents. Disappearing for weeks, not so much as a by-your-leave! At least you didn't run off to elope," she said, stopping to give Alfie's sleeping form a maternal chuckle. Tommy turned pink when Alfie awoke by snuggling even closer.

"Grandmother," Tommy said. He wanted to hide under the blankets, or at least hide Alfie. Alfie didn't help matters when he bounded up, shaking Grandmother's hand.

"Lady Edmondes, how good to finally meet you. Tommy's always talked of his family. I'm Alphard Rigel Black, of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."

Grandmother smiled as Alfie bent over her hand.

"Yes, Professor Slughorn mentioned. A very ancient wizarding house."

It took Tommy and Alfie a combined minute to realise what she'd said.

"You mean, Sluggy told you?" Tommy said. Alfie squealed and bounced.

"It's a breach of the Statute! Desperate times! The War Effort!"

Grandmother ignored Alfie as she sat down at Tommy's bedside.

"Aneirin and Gwen knew what they were doing. As your legal guardian, Tommyknocker, I can at least try to step in," she said. Tommy let her stroke his hair off his forehead.

"I'm glad you know. Did you know, there are house elves at Crossfields? I met one on my birthday," he said.

Grandmother laughed gently.

"Yes, there've been legends about the brownies of Crossfields. When I was a girl, I thought I saw one. I used to leave milk and bread out for him."

Tommy rested against her, while Alfie eventually stopped squawking. He curled up again at Tommy's feet. Grandmother smiled at him, before resting her chin on Tommy's head.

"Your mum and papa both had bosom friends like this. I don't know if I ever told you?"

Tommy shifted a little.

"Prue and Uncle Stig?" he whispered. She murmured in agreement.

"And I'm sorry to say I was a bit hard on them. It will be different for you, Tom. I'm certain of it. Once we find a cure, it will be different."

"We need to find a source of pure magic," Tommy said. He didn't know if Grandmother would understand how impossible this task was. She hummed and nodded and then sat up, fixing Tommy with a look he didn't understand.

"A source of pure magic? A holy well?" she said. Something trembled inside Tommy, like he was coming down with the flu.

"Like St. Winefride's? But Grandmother, what if that's not magic enough?"

Grandmother's mouth became a long, thin line. She squinted hard enough to quell all but the smallest tremors in Tommy's belly.

"We're going to do everything we can to find a cure for you. I've already lost my daughter and granddaughter and grandnephew, darling. I'm not going to lose you too."

Tommy closed his eyes as Grandmother kissed his forehead. Alfie's arms wrapped him tight and his eyes stayed closed, chasing off yellow sparks.

They went through accounts of the well of St. Winifrede's, the waters of Bath, the springs in Spa. Flamel and Perenelle were both experts in the fields of healing and life extension, contributed personal accounts of all.

"The problem is that while all of the traditional sources are sufficient to cure mundane ills, this taint is beyond me," Perenelle said.

Tommy hated the silence that followed, for he was the only patient awake. Alfie dozed over a book. Grandmother sipped her samovar tea, a frown pulling her eyebrows into one severe line. Tommy looked from Perenelle to Flamel, wanting to see something other than despair behind their eyes.

"What about non-traditional sources? What about…secret sources?" he said. Flamel's eyes cut through him. The tangled memories unspooled: the sea, the snake and the cave. Flamel blinked in shock and swore in French.

"You must tell me about this cave," he said in a strangled whisper. Alfie yawned himself awake. Grandmother put down her tea.

"When I was a boy, I found a cave by the sea. There was a light that glowed purple and green, and freshwater instead of salt," he said. Alfie nodded along, but Grandmother spoke first.

"That summer we went to the resort? You ran off."

It was too long ago to be embarrassed about childish troubles. Tommy nodded, a lump rising in his throat. The last time he'd vacationed with mum and papa.

"I did, and a snake came and showed me how to get to the cave. Would a cave like that…would it be a holy well? One that no one had discovered?" Tommy said, when he could speak.

Flamel summoned a map with his wand and laid it out on Tommy's bed. The map showed Ancient England and Wales, when Wales had been Gwynedd and Dyfed, Powys and Gwent. Somerset was called Dumnonia, and Grandmother traced its coast with a finger.

"Do you remember where we went?" Tommy said. She nodded after a moment.

"On this map it's hard to tell, but I believe," she stopped and pointed at a bay, "this is where we went."

Flamel marked it with his wand tip. Alfie crowded in, and then said,

"Say, that could be Avalon!" Everyone stared at him, until he turned pink and added, "You know, King Arthur, Holy Grail…going over the sea to the island of Avalon. Him?"

"I know the place," Flamel said. "And a shrine of some sort on the coast would be appropriate for such a mighty king." When Flamel stopped speaking, Tommy huffed.

"Look, it's a long shot, I know. But I found it, I know it's magic and I want to try going there!"

Grandmother had to push him back against the pillows.

"You are supposed to be resting," she said. Tommy wanted to fight back, but between the creeping tendrils of yellow and the way Alfie was pressed to him, he bit his tongue.

"We can use that traveling spell of Slytherin's," Flamel said, mainly to Grandmother and Perenelle. "And I would normally hesitate to bring patients. But Tom has experience of this place, and I am not familiar with it, though the legends of Avalon…"

Their voices dimmed to a background murmur when Alfie snuggled to Tommy's side.

"You'll be well again. We'll go to your Avalon and you'll be well," he said. Tommy fell into a doze, only barely aware of Flamel and Grandmother in intense discussion about moving so many sick people.

"Where would we keep them all safe?" Grandmother said.

"It would be trivial to keep them in one place. But how to bring them into this cave…the way will be perilous," Flamel replied.

"He sounds like Dumbledore," Alfie muttered.

"He taught Dumbledore," Tommy said. They giggled together.

* * *

><p>In the morning, Liz joined them in civilian clothes.<p>

"I'm coming with you. I'll bring back anything you find for Alec," she said. Tommy didn't have to ask how she knew. He had other questions.

"What happened after I killed Grindelwald?"

Liz pushed hair out of her eyes before speaking. She didn't smell like cigarettes for once.

"We could see. Captain Montgomery left Alec's body, it was like he was in a coma. Everyone who'd been cursed fell asleep, so we managed to get more out of the Line. Commander Lloyds will get people to dismantle the rail lines."

"Won't the Nazis notice?" Tommy whispered. Somewhere out beyond the infirmary, he could almost hear the drone of ME 109s and Dormers. Liz shook her head.

"We're leaving the area, and the villagers have magic. Berlin has other concerns."

Tommy sighed. He wasn't in any shape to fight. The only thing he could do would be to petrify the Nazi armies with Gwendolyn. That was if she'd survived the battle.

"And Gwendolyn? My basilisk?"

Liz laughed.

"You know, you're the living end! She's fine, she rescued you and even let us get on her back to get out. She's somewhere in the woods, I think. Lloyds didn't want her near civilians."

Tommy relaxed into the pillows at last.

"Grandmother knows. I thought she'd be disappointed, I couldn't be an archeologist like I wanted. She seems pleased," he said. Liz continued laughing.

"Lady Edmondes has seen stranger, I'm sure."

Tommy shifted around to get a better look at Grandmother with Perenelle. They probably only left the infirmary to sleep. Grandmother. She'd be kind to him and Alfie. She didn't care if he was a wizard or tainted or adopted.

Tommy couldn't cry anymore. He waited until Liz joined them before he let the lump in his throat spill over.

* * *

><p>They left Stregoicavar a month later, on the tail of the Dieppe retreat. Flamel had the rest of the Resistance disappear into the Ruritanian frontier, before joining Dumbledore in casting the traveling spell. They wove the spell like a great glittering net over the entire infirmary. The ground and air rippled as one. Tommy smelled sea air, heard seagulls crying and a great relief spread through his belly.<p>

He stood up from bed before Grandmother and Alfie could reach him to offer an arm.

"I can show you," he said. Grandmother took his arm then, with a smile that reached her eyes. It seemed like years since he'd seen that smile.

"My brave boy," she said.

Tommy led Grandmother out of the infirmary before Flamel or Dumbledore could stop him, Alfie on their heels.

They'd appeared above the coast, facing Wales and the grey-green of the sea. Tommy didn't need a snake this time to see the line. He traced it with a black-tinged finger.

"Can you see it?" he asked Alf and Grandmother. Grandmother sighed as the sea air blew over them.

"I can," she said. Alfie simply sighed. Tommy grinned at them both before dragging them onto the path.

He'd read about ley lines. While muggle authorities doubted they existed, Tommy compared his findings with writings in the Hogwarts library. Glastonbury was near enough that this line would lead right through the heart of old Avalon. At the other end, the sea, the sea cave, a light purple and green.

"Grandmother, Alf, we'll need to swim," Tommy said, once they'd come to the rockiest part of the beach. Grandmother wore a dress suit, as always, as mum had, but she took off her smart coat and kicked off her clean shoes.

"I was a champion swimmer as a girl," she said. She almost managed a giggle. Alfie gaped at her for a moment, before following suit.

"Into the drink," he muttered. Tommy smiled, grateful he wouldn't be alone this time.

It was much harder to swim this time. Tommy felt shivery and sick even though the water was much warmer. The sea was calm enough for them to approach the crack in the rock face, and once inside Alfie lit his wand.

The rocks sparkled like the Milky Way, and they came very quickly to a small cave hollowed in the rock. Grandmother pulled Alfie up and Alfie helped Tommy. The air around them felt thick with magic, a tang not like salt water but somehow still familiar.

"What next?" Alfie said, lifting his wand higher over the rocks. There was no sign of the glowing light, or the sweet water. Tommy swayed on his feet, but he caught himself before they noticed. For a moment he fell through crackling yellow lightning.

"Perhaps a password? A spell?" Grandmother said. She placed a hand on the rocks and then jumped. "A shock! An electric shock!"

"The rocks must be magical," Alfie said. One wave of his wand confirmed it. Then, he stammered. "Blood? Blood payment! Tommy, this place is evil!"

Grandmother caught Tommy when he swayed again.

"It couldn't be," he said. Grandmother scoffed.

"Blood? Since when is a blood price evil? What ties you to your family? What gives you your magic? What gives life?" she said. Alfie looked abashed, but a warmth tickled down the back of Tommy's neck.

"She's right, it's not evil. It's just natural. I skinned my hand last time, and that was all it took."

Alfie, perhaps to make up for his moment of weakness, took a deep breath.

"I'll pay it then," he said. When Grandmother looked ready to protest, he said, "No, it's the only thing I can do. So I will."

He pointed at his off hand, his right, and cast a hex. A boil grew on the skin, then burst, and though Alfie whimpered, he rubbed the blood and fluid on the rocks. They vanished in the wand light. Beyond it, they could already see that misty purple-green shimmer in the velvet black, and the sweet smell of fresh water.

"Should we wait here?" Grandmother said. Tommy shook his head.

"No. You should come with me. You're both my family."

The cave seemed as vast as the dome of the sky, glittering with crystals and water. They all gasped, and Grandmother looked ready to weep. Alfie's wand already pointed at the shore a few yards away. As he lifted his wand, a boat appeared.

"It looks ancient," Tommy said.

"It's magic, Tommyknocker," Grandmother replied. They slipped carefully over the rocks to the boat. It was made of planks with wood ribs, rather like a Viking boat without a sail or mast, with a prow like an ancient serpent.

Tommy climbed in first, and when Grandmother stepped in last, the boat sailed into the sweet water on its own. That was when Tommy realised there was no rudder. The boat moved swiftly over the water, leaving no wake. When they drew close to the light source, Tommy spotted the island.

"Avalon," he said. Neither of the others could manage to speak.

The boat left them at the rocky feet of the island, and disappeared when Tommy was the last to exit. By then, Grandmother and Alfie were standing before a pillar of rock crystal, with a silver basin resting on top.

Alfie looked at Tommy as he joined them.

"There's potion in here," he said, his voice not loud enough to dent the thick air.

"Should we let you drink it, Tommy? Would that be right?" Grandmother said.

Tommy looked at the potion. It looked like sea water, and had the same bitter smell. He looked up at the other two.

"If this place is like Avalon, and it is a Holy Well, then maybe I have to drink it."

"You'll be a ruddy pain to bring back if it's poison," Alfie said. He conjured a crystal goblet for Tommy to use.

"If it is poison, then just leave me. If it isn't…there is only one way to find out," Tommy said. Grandmother's hand twitched as he lowered the goblet into the potion, but she didn't stop him.

He took a gulp of the potion, and the taste of sea water and blood rushed over his tongue.

Fighting with papa, denying being his papa's gatito. Lying to mum about Alfie, about snakes and magic. Skivving and risking Slughorn's job. Running away and making Grandmother fear for his life. Falling through yellow lighting, into the yellow mouth, into a wasting yellow death, alone.

Tommy spoke in Spanish for the first time since he'd been a small boy, when papa had taught him his first words.

"Papa…papa…por favor…ayudame…rescatarme papa!" he reached for papa and found water, cold water instead. He had to drink, he'd drown himself and forget everything.

Sweet water flooded his mouth. His first clear breaths and all the old sorrows were shadows, without any power over him.

"Mum…papa…Grandmother," Tommy said. Grandmother's arms were around him, and Alfie's, and their arms were warmer than the waters.

* * *

><p>September the first came and went, but Tommy was enrolled in Brackenwood Hall. The waters from the cave had purified him, but he'd given up all his magic when he'd faced Grindelwald. An officious little Scottish woman from the Ministry of Magic had come to tell him that he'd been reclassified as a squib, and would no longer be allowed the wand or rights of a wizard. Tommy didn't mind. He could still speak to snakes and ghosts, though he didn't mention this to Grandmother.<p>

Alfie called him every filthy name he could through the two-way mirror. But then he sent a box of chocolate cauldrons on Tommy's birthday. Slughorn wrote as well, with his deepest regrets, that the excavation to the Chamber of Secrets was indefinitely postponed. He'd also sent crystalized pineapple, and a business card for a "useful contact" in the Department of Classical Antiquities at the British Museum.

Alec got better and couldn't remember anything after the crash. Liz agreed with Tommy: what he didn't know wouldn't hurt them. They married in Gretna Green and forever scandalised Lady Montgomery.

Tommy joined Martin and Daniel in the all night revelry on VE day. On VJ day, Tommy met Alfie in London. They had dinner at the Ritz. Tommy swore a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square that night.

* * *

><p>The graveyard hadn't changed much since his last visit. The yew tree was a little taller, a little more bowed. Grandmother had planted rosebushes over both the graves. The flowers were just opening their buds, and Tommy touched one to coax it out. Even the wet Welsh weather hadn't done much to the smooth marble.<p>

"Hi mum. Hi papa. It's been a while, I know," Tommy said. He sat down between the graves, like he was having a picnic.

He had the ring and he could use it, even knowing what it did. But did he want to?

"Mum, papa? I really do want to see you again. I really want you back."

He could smell papa's cigarillo's in his memory, the touch of the piano keys when he played with mum. He wouldn't let go of that. The ring glided across his palm as smooth and natural as a snake. The light played across his eyes, just as when he'd awoke in the hospital, green and purple.

"Tommyknocker…darling."

"Gatito, mijito."

Mum and papa, just the same as always. They smiled and held their hands out for him. He reached back, he'd always reach back. Even if he couldn't hold them anymore, he'd reach back always.

"I miss you. I miss you so much," Tommy said, crying and laughing at the same time.

"Darling, we miss you too," mum said. He could almost take her hand again, as when he'd been small. Her hand this time made of light and silver and dreamstuff.

"We didn't want to go, gatito," papa said. Tommy let papa touch his forehead, the heat and light almost alive. The burst of magic and papa's cologne over his face.

"It's ok, papa," Tommy said. He meant every word, just not the way he'd expected. "I know you'll wait for me."

"Always, Tommyknocker," mum said.

"Always, gatito," papa said.

Tommy smiled, even with tears leaking down his face. Mum and papa sat down to join him, but they left a fourth place open. Tommy didn't ask. He knew she'd be here. She'd always been here. He reached back for her and their hands touched. For the briefest heartbeat, he could feel her touch…his mother, touching her son at last.

They stayed sitting a long time, while the sun warmed the rosebuds above them and the leaves of the yew turned gold in the afternoon light. The light around them turned gold and pink and purple and green, like fireworks, like magic. Tommy could just feel his mum and papa's hands. He could almost hear Merope's voice.

"I told you I'd come back for you one day," Tommy said at last. The sunset turned everything orange and red, the light dying, the day dying.

"Tommyknocker darling, we promise, we'll wait," mum said.

Papa smiled and touched Tommy's cheek.

"Mijito gatito," papa said.

They faded with the daylight, fading into the long shadows of the yew, of the mausoleums and tombs around them. Tommy could still feel the warmth of their hands in his. He knew they weren't leaving. They never would. He buried the ring between the marble stones.

As Tommy stood up he heard a woman call,

"Tom!"

But he needed a moment to sort his memories from the real world. She walked up to him from the gates, a beautiful woman with honey-gold hair and a fancy red dress. He said nothing to her because there was nothing to say. She started crying as she looked into his eyes.

"Tom? My god, if only I'd known," she said. Tommy sighed and let her fuss and offer consolations. She did neither of these things, instead offering her gloved hand. "My name is Cecilia, Tom. Cecilia Riddle."

The name struck its sour note, a missed key in a harmony.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Riddle. I didn't expect you," Tommy said. He didn't want to be this polite, but he was far too tired to fight her. Mrs. Riddle patted his hair the way mum used to.

"I had no idea, Tom. You see, I went to school with your mother, with Gwen. We lost touch after we finished school. I only found out this past month. I managed to write to your Great Aunt Glynys," Mrs. Riddle said. The words stuck like burrs, so that even as Tommy shivered he couldn't lose them.

"You knew my mum?" he said, at last. Mrs. Riddle smiled and nodded. "And then you married…that man," he finished. Mrs. Riddle hid her sob well. She put her arm through Tommy's and led him back to the gates. Tommy saw a fine motorcar beyond. A little boy and girl peered out of the back seat at him. They had the same brown eyes as Tommy.

"I just adored Gwen in school, she was so popular and funny. I'm sorry I lost track of her. I'm even more sorry that it took this to help me find her…and you, Tom."

Tommy didn't have it in him to fight, but he did scowl at her.

"You could have before, if you'd really tried," he said. Mrs. Riddle flinched as she nodded.

"I should have looked, Tom. But my husband, he told me you and your mother were dead. I didn't want to go looking for ghosts. It would have been too painful."

They passed under the yew tree and the little girl waved to her mother from the car. Mrs. Riddle finally let go of Tommy's arm. When she stepped away, Tommy felt cold again.

"I suppose my mum would be glad you're happy," he said, when he could look into Mrs. Riddle's face without a rush of anger. Mrs. Riddle nodded and hugged herself, the shocking red dress.

"You don't have to see me again, if you don't want to. I know it would be wrong to force you. But, Tom, I shall be only a telephone call away, should you change your mind."

Tommy looked from her to his half-brother and sister in the car. The little girl waved, so he waved back. She smiled, so he did as well.

"One day, I'll come back," Tommy said, when he returned to Mrs. Riddle. She was crying freely, her eye-makeup running. But she nodded and embraced him.

"Goodbye, Tom," she said.

"Goodbye," Tommy said, knowing he wouldn't see her again. She slipped into the fine car and Tommy saw the outline of her husband in the driver's seat. The car pulled away before Tommy could say anything. Tommy started back down the road, following smell and light and memory. Going home.

FIN


End file.
